The Tale of the Wanderer
by Mystborn
Summary: Each story has a hero, but even heroes need help. That's where she comes is. Ally, comrade, friend, sister, mother, lover; she takes her place in the stories. Doomed to know how it ends and driven by Powers she barely understands she has now been sent to Thedas. This story is abandoned. See I work for the bureau of original charters if you liked this story.
1. Landfall

**Chapter 1- Landfall**

* * *

 _Elvish_

 _ **Ancient language**_

 **D'ni**

* * *

If someone had told her all those years ago that she would wander through the worlds of Video games and fictional stories she would have scoffed and said that only happened in bad fanfiction. Oh how the gods loved irony.

You wouldn't think to look at her that she was almost a thousand years old by this point, she still looked only twenty. Nor did she cut a very imposing figure, standing a nice even five foot seven. She had a sturdy frame, not thin but not broad either. She had a marathoner's body that had no trace of excess fat and with lean muscles that spoke of hard work and strain.

Her blue eyes looked too old for her young face, though usually sparkling with laughter they could go hard as steel or cloud over with sorrow at a moment's notice. Her hair was long hung in golden brown curls past her shoulder blades but was currently tied back in a low ponytail. Her face was heart shaped but marred by a long thin scar, barely visible unless you really looked, ran from her right temple to the left side of her chin, just missing her eye and tugged the left corner of her lips down very slightly. Her skin was tanned and if one looked carefully a faint green undertone was visible, but few ever looked that hard.

She was dressed in a motley collection of clothes and armour, each with a story of how it came into her possession. Around her neck sat a silver pendant that held an iridescent turquoise scale few shades greener than her eyes, this was from her journeys in Alagasia where she had woken up in an egg and hatched as a wild dragon. She had ended up aiding Eragon and Saphira defeat Galbatorix after she and Saphira had hatched.

She wore a simple green long sleeve shirt from the UNSC sat underneath a mithrill coat and over that a leather vest, both from her time among the dwarves of middle earth and from her aid in the retaking of the lonely mountain, the mithrill being a gift from Thorin. A pair of canvass cargo pants with multiple pockets and reinforced with leather was from her time in the UNSC, the leather was from her time on Pern.

A pair of sturdy leather boots also from Pern were augmented with metal greaves and knee guards that matched her metal and leather arm guards that had come from Tameriel, a plain metal shoulder plate on the left from her time with the Witcher Geralt of Rivia was offset by the one on the right that looked to be made of metal feathers, each with razor sharp edges, her cloak was protected from them by a leather inner guard. Another collection of metal feathers that sat in sheaths on a bandoleer across her torso, the base of which were wrapped with leather and looked like daggers. Stormwing feathers, razor sharp and unbreakable save with obsidian.

All of these were secured by leather straps that sat under her vest. A thick utility belt from Corusant sat around her hips and was full to bursting with various objects, the most precious being a small book that was attached to the belt itself and spelled to be indestructible, unreadable but if one touched the panel inside would take one to an age written just for her by her husband, as well as an empty one waiting to be filled. Over all this was a mottled green and grey cloak from her friend Will Treaty in Arulen.

On her head sat a silver circlet with a small emerald flanked by two small sapphires from her time with the elves of Rivendell and around her neck was a neck scarf from the Bahzir tribes.

Her weapons were just as eclectic. A simple straight knife was strapped to her left calf, a gift from her friend Tali'Zorah. A set of throwing knives were secreted around her body as well as a khukuri knife, those were from Laura Croft. A beautiful leaf bladed sword from the elven forges of Lorien swung at her side and a combat knife from Jim Raynor was attached to her left shoulder.

A rather nasty looking serrated blade made from scrap metal sat on her right calf, the metal was scorched and pockmarked from its time in the wasteland. An Ebony bow from Tameriel and a quiver of arrows she made herself sat next to the pack that sat comfortably on her shoulders and a shield rested on top of it.

The shield was from her time in Tortall, it bore a sky blue dragon rampant on a forest green background. On her person were many more items from her travels a spindle, a tooth, a journal, a small game and much more.

Her hair also contained several braids adorned with beads, ornament, charms and feathers, some from a griffon which prevented her from being lied to. A golden arm band sat on her right arm, just barely visible under her mithrill sleeve, it was beautiful, covered in an ornate and flowing script, her wedding band. coupled with a pair of black leather gloves whose backs were embossed with the same script from her time in D'ni , completed her outfit that in general seemed to say "watch out I've seen things you wouldn't believe."

She felt a shiver creep down her spine, like a trickle of ice water was running down from the back of her neck. She knew this feeling, it meant that she was about to jump again. She did a quick inventory to make sure she had everything and smiled sadly at the empty campsite that had been her home and refuge for six months on this empty world. A place for her to grieve after the death of her husband in D'ni.

The colours blurred together like paint swirled together on a pallet and she felt the accompanying nausea. Wind roared in her ears and felt like her chest was being compressed by an incredible weight. She felt her armour clad knees hit the ground and she toppled with a grunt, feeling her shoulder fall into what felt like leaves over moss.

Her vision and breath slowly returned along with sound quickly she did a personal check, running her hands up over her face, skin same as last time, round ears, scar still in the same place, eyebrows still at the same angle, no massive fangs. No change, she sighed in relief, it sucked when she had to get used to a new form, at least the dragon thing had only happened her first time so no gear lost.

She focused on the outside again and identified the chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves, and the sound of running water, her nose twitched from where her cheek rested on the ground. The smell of rotting leaves, water, grass and dirt made themselves known to her as she carefully sorted, using her keener sense of hearing, smell and her ability to sense and communicate with her mind left over from her stint as a dragon.

After a cursory examination of her surroundings which told her she was in a forest on a mountain containing some form of small rodent she carefully sat up and after glancing around and confirming her first assessment she began to brush dirt and leaves from her hair and clothes, being mindful of her right shoulder guard. Standing she looked around her and noticed from the sun that it was still early morning sometime in the late summer, she soon located the stream and began to follow it, quickly setting a ground eating pace that had served her well.

Around noon she saw several small pink hairless creatures with long floppy ears and the creepiest little feet she had ever seen scurry away from her, a quick mental check identified them as the rodents she had sensed upon arrival. Shrugging she pulled out a throwing knife and pegged one behind the head, killing it instantly. Picking it up she moved to a flat rock near the edge of the stream and lit a small fire before she skinned and gutted the creature, burying the innards far from her fire and after washing her prize in the stream she spit it on a green stick she had found earlier and set it up to roast.

The creature turned out to be quite tasty, very like rabbit she decided, she ate quickly before stamping out her fire and cleaning the area until save for a scorch mark on the stone there was no way to tell she had been there. A few hours of mindless travelling later she reached a valley in the mountains. The forest continued but was much sparser with stretches of green grass and ferns.

She froze as a feeling like being doused in a bucket of glacier water washed over her. Every sense she had hone over her centuries screamed that something was wrong and her draconic instincts roared at her to fight and halt whatever abomination was near her. Quickly she slid out her bow and knocked an arrow. Silent as a shadow she moved through the forest towards the feeling, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as she drew closer. There was a fizzing crackling sound and a chittering that reminded her of Zerglings.

She inched over the rise and stared, a massive green something hovered in an area patrolled by things that looked like the twisted beings that came out of Mordor. Three creatures with skeletal limbs and mouths full of teeth a shark would have been proud of. Something that looked like piles of ragged robes covering small shrivelled bodies that hovered above the ground wreathed in cold air and reeked of hopelessness and a collection of green ghosts.

They looked familiar but she didn't have time to place it unfortunately, almost immediately the floating one looked up in her direction and shrieked like a banshee, alerting the others of her presence. She cursed and let her arrow fly, it struck true landing squarely in the screetcher's eye, which caused t to dissolve into black and green smoke. The ghosts began to hurl orbs of green light at her as the spindly ones ran at her. She threw herself to the left, firing another arrow at a ghost, it vanished like the screecher. Emboldened by the fact that they could die she began firing at a rapid pace and trying to put as many down as possible before they reached her.

The ghosts were out of commission soon but the other three remained. They were to close for her bow now, she rolled out of the way of a swipe stowing her bow and pulling her sword and shrugging her shield into place from her back. She brought it up in time to catch another swipe. It smashed against her shield like a war hammer and she cried out, thrusting her sword Silivegil at it and catching the creature in the side. The elven blade bit deep, severing flesh and bone as she heaved it down, slicing through its hip.

She pulled away and swung the sword back around, lopping off its head. There was a flash and she felt herself being blasted backwards. She landed hard and felt a crack in her torso, a rib. Snarling she leapt back up, to see the remaining two leering at her as they lunged, she spun ignoring the pain in her side and spinning her blade in a movement that used the momentum of the creature to behead itself.

Something whistled past her head as she ducked, twisting and rolling away, lifting her shield in time to catch what she now saw was a tail " _Thaind, Avo dheo enni_ " [shield, do not fail me] she cried, bashing her shield in its face causing it to stagger back and she cried out in triumph as she drove her sword home in its throat. Causing it to gurgle as it dissolved into green smoke.

Grimacing in pain she turned back to what looked like a tear in reality and frowned, this was not something she knew how to fix. The tear flashed and sparked just as three new beings flashed into existence. "Fuck" she groaned as she doffed her pack and cloak before charging the monsters. How long she battled she did not know but somehow the killing of those monsters was causing the tear to shrink, not very much or for long but she knew that she would have to retreat soon.

Through her battle haze she heard voices "there quick we must seal it!" a woman's voice said. "Maker who is that?" questioned a male voice "Doesn't matter, Hurry!" said another male but she was too tired to care. Then there were others fighting with her whilst a small figure with a glowing hand aimed said appendage at the tear. With a flash and a bang the tear sealed and vanished, leaving her gasping and leaving heavily on her knees, shield and sword still grasped in her hands " **chehv shehm** " [thank you] she gasped, straightening and wiping sweat from her eyes "I was almost at the end of my strength" she told them, moving to pick up her pack, sheathing her sword and slinging her shield, cloak and pack back around her shoulders.

These chores finished she turned to see her rescuers and stared. She saw two male elves one with no hair and the other with long dark auburn hair and face tattoos both of them carried staffs, a male dwarf lacking a beard and showing a ridiculous amount of chest hair cradling a cross bow, and a human female with short black hair with a drawn sword.

All in all they made for a very strange company in her eyes, the elves were too short, and the dwarf had no beard. Her mind tried to rebel but she simply shrugged it off **_"_** ** _Kvetha_** " [greetings] she told them, inclining her head to them and smiling tiredly at them.

The bald elf and the human frowned at her and the younger one and the drwarf smiled uncertainly at her "Um greetings!" the elf said a little awkwardly. The cringe worthy silence fell over the group as the others stared at her and she watched them right back, an amused smile tugging at her lips.

Finally the dwarf broke the silence "So how long were you fighting the demons?" he asked and she shrugged

"I don't know, a while, several waves of them at least. What was that tear?" she asked curiously, "I have seen many things in my travels, but a tear in reality is unusual."

The others looked at each other in confusion before the elf answered "They're called rifts, they began appearing when the conclave blew up and tore a hole in the sky. The Inquisition is trying to fix it" he told her a serious expression on his face. She looked at him and felt a heavy weight settle in her heart as the memories were triggered, flooding her mind's eye.

She knew this story, had loved and played it in her old life when she had been innocent and free, and she knew it was time to begin again. "I want to help" she told them, they looked startled and she continued "Such a thing is too serious to ignore. I have ignored much but this I will not." She told them seriously. The young male elf, Lavellan she remembered in a flash nodded and held out his hand.

"Welcome to the Inquisition…" he trailed off waiting for her name. She smiled and took his hand shaking it before telling them the name she had chosen over the years

"My name Istaril, Lady Istaril Islingr Kehramor."

* * *

 **A/N- Greetings to all who have stumbled upon this. This was a rabid plot bunny that attacked me. Fortunately Cortana Shepard arrived and hunted the beast down. Upon seeing it I felt that I should show this to you lot and ask you opinion. Should I continue or leave it to die in dust and forgotten memories. The idea is the SI only this character has been inserted into just about everything you can think of. She has spent the most time in Alagasia, Arda (LOTR) and more recently in D'ni.**

 **The-powers-that-be send her as kind of like back up/seer or even as a preventative to stop unnecessary amounts of death. She knows the stories and gets dropped in them to help the characters. Sometimes she gets a bit of a species change along the way. The most drastic time this has happened was on her first jump where she was changed into a dragon in a wild egg that appeared to Eragon along with Saphira's egg.**

 **She and Arya worked closely together throughout the war, though not as a full dragon rider pair, but they functioned as one, she still has some more draconic aspects, like when she gets mad her eyes will go dragon and the like.**

 **Then she spent nine decades in Arda, spending well over forty years exclusively among the elves who accepted her as an elf friend.** **She moved on after the events of ROTK.**

 **During several centuries worth of skipping through the shorter stories (20 years or less) She stopped Anakin from destroying the temple (she was a bounty hunter) and she even ended up being absorbed by the Zerg when she and Kerrigan where captured.**

 **After the defeat of Amon she moved on again, but still has some residual Zerg instincts and a boost in her psionics which she had from her dragon form.**

 **Her Last trip was in the world of Myst, specifically the time before D'ni's fall. She managed to stop it by assassinating** **A'Gaeris. Also she and Veovis fell in love, the-powers-that-be allowed her to leave after his death, though they had no children.**

 **She has spent the last six months in mourning, this was not the first time she has fallen in love. So now she is still grieving, as she is immortal time moves more slowly to her. If she is killed she is simply sent on to the next world, meaning she can't help anymore.**

 **She tends to slip into the ancient language from Alagasia, Sindarin and D'ni from time to time**

 **Any who let me know what you lot think. I hope you do because I can see where this can go, Let me know what you think.**

 **Her name is as follows:** _Istaril: the woman who knows (roughly)_ _ **Islingr: Light bringer or Illuminator (was her dragon name)**_ **Kehramor: Brave heart, was given after she saved several guild masters from a fire. Her being a Lady is because through Veovis she married into one of the five noble houses of D'ni**

 **Cheers, Mystborn!**


	2. Trust

**Chapter 2- Trust**

* * *

 _Sindarin_

 ** _ancient Language_**

 **D'ni**

* * *

The five of them moved through the hinterlands searching out new rifts to close. Istaril moved at the front of the group next to Lavellan, who had introduced his first name, Enarel. The others had as well, allowing her to call them by their names and to remark on Bianca the crossbow. She knew that her position was to prevent her from stabbing anyone in the back, she sighed and put those thoughts out of her mind.

It was always the same, the distrust and sideways looks, the spies and the reading of all personal documents that they could get their hands on. At least there were no chains or cell. They fought their way through three Templar ambushes, one group of bandits, two rifts and a bear before they returned to one of their camps near the farms.

While the others moved to where there was food being served around the central fire she pulled off her pack and removed her bedroll. It was one of her most treasured possessions. Tailor made to her specifications from the elves of Lorien it was water proof and warm. A thick pad that she had added a thermal reflector to made it warm and comfortable.

Not only that but it was light and thin. She smiled and once again blessed Elven weaving. She had a hood for the colder times that they had made her, it was a deep grey that blended beautifully with its surroundings. Her cloak was of the same materials, truth be told it was not the original one that Will had given her, but rather a recreation of it, as the original had been reduced to little more than ash and charred shreds in Moria.

With quick efficient movements she unrolled the bedroll and placed her pack next to it before sauntering over to the fire. "You know we have tents that you ca use" Varric told her smiling "you don't have to sleep outside."

His tawny eyes were kind and she returned the smile "I enjoy sleeping under the stars. With winter coming I will not be able to for some time" she explained, settling herself gracefully next to him on one of the benches, easily flicking her cloak out of the way and accepting the bowl the soldier next to the pot handed her.

Looking at it she saw that it was a stew, the scent told her venison, a few potatoes and tubers added for extra calories. She smiled and began to eat it, liking the meat but half wishing it were rarer, a throwback from the Zerg and dragon influences.

"So, what's with the feathers?" Varric asked her casually, gesturing to her hair and shoulder plate.

She looked at him sideways, a playful glint in her eye "well the feathers came from a griffin" she told him, a laugh in her voice "and the feathers came from a the members of several Stormwing Nations I forged alliances with during a war, they even gave me a Stormwing last name. They're a surprisingly decent bunch."

Varric snorted "yeah and I'm a paragon" he scoffed.

She grinned at him "Oh you could be a paragon, of manliness" she retorted, laughing into her bowl as the dwarf choked on the mouthful of water he had just drank. She laughed hard as the water came out his nose and his face turned red, he glared at her as he wiped his face looking at her.

"How did you know about that?" he demanded and she laughed harder, shaking her head

"now, now Varric, I don't kiss and tell" She returned her attention to her meal, smirking as she heard the dwarf curse.

"What's a Stormwing?" Cassandra asked cautiously, but with a light of curiosity in her eyes. Istaril sighed and put her last spoonful of stew in her mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly before answering "A Stormwing is a creature of the battlefield. They feast on the fear and hatred of War, They will tear apart the corpses of the deceased, rolling in the filth and generally desecrating the fallen. They are about the size of a Condor with a human head and chest, the rest of them is covered in metal feathers that are razor sharp and their teeth are made of steel." She answered and everyone looked at her in horror.

"They sound like abominations or demons" Enarel said quietly but she shook her head

"No they were created through the dreams of a mortal woman who wished to end the horrors of war. She hoped that others would refuse to fight knowing that their remains would receive no honourable burial and that all one had to look forward to, is a fate as a Stormwing's meal." She looked at them carefully "While not entirely successful, it does help. Soldiers have been known to refuse to fight for that reason."

She sighed sadly, picking up her bowl and moving to the nearby stream, rinsing it out and scrubbing it with sand. The water had that bone chilling cold that came with mountain streams, indicative of their origins among the snows of the peaks. Quietly she moved back to the came, pausing outside the circle of light to listen.

"You don't know where she comes from" Cassandra's voice was exasperated

"yes but it was the same with me, you knew nothing about me but you still expected me to help you. I don't know why but I feel like we can trust her" Enarel said calmly.

"Come off it Seeker we need all the help we can get here" Varric said pragmatically

"I agree" Solas added his two cents "She is a remarkable warrior and has obviously traveled far, I have never even heard of the creatures she described, yet the way she spoke of them was with a deep knowledge of them. I suggest we allow her to remain. If only so we may keep an eye on her."

She sighed, same old story, same old conversations, why were these decisions always the same? Hell even the wording was the same. She shook her head and began to move forward again, moving to the pile of clean dishes and adding her now cleaned bowl to the stack before lounging down on the bench again.

"So Feathers" Varric began and she looked over at him, her eyebrow raised and he grinned at her unapologetically and she shrugged, she'd been called worse.

"Yes Darling" she drawled, making it sound like Dahling.

"So you've traveled a lot I take it" he continued and she nodded, her eyebrow still raised "so then you must have some good stories to tell" he finished and she smirked.

"What's this Varric, looking for the subject of your new book, the Tale of the Wanderer perhaps?" she asked jokingly, only to see his eyes light up

"you know, that's not a bad idea" he told her and she laughed, shaking her head

"You're incorrigible" she told him and he smiled roguishly

"you forgot to add devilishly handsome" he reminded her

"I wouldn't dream of it, otherwise I would have to answer to Bianca" she teased before standing "It's been a long day, perhaps another time" she told him yawning, before bidding them all good night.

She moved to her bedroll and carefully pulled off her armour and boots and cargo pants, leaving her in her long shirt and a pair of knee length shorts. She carefully spread out a square of oiled canvas on the ground and placed her folded things onto. Her knives were laid next to the pile but her sword stayed next to her in easy reach and her Quarian knife sat under her pillow.

Then she pulled out another rectangle of canvas and placed it over her gear to keep the dew away from it and crawled into her bed. She was situated just a little behind one of the tents, so as to have some privacy, this also kept the light of the fire away from her.

Looking up at the cloudless sky she let her mind drift in the starry expanse, from where she lay she could see the two moons drifting high above her among the stars. As sleep claimed her she continued to watch the stars, and for a moment or an eternity felt like she was drifting among them once more.

* * *

She was curled in a ball, a thick warm liquid surrounded her on all sides. Everything was dark, beyond that of mere night. All was silence and peace, she did not feel the need to breath and simply existed floating in the silent sea. Every now and then she would shift, her wings and tail opening ever so slightly to allow more of the fluid to circulate over her body.

Then the whispers came, she could not understand them, but knew that she should fear them. The whispers grew stronger and so did her understanding, her form was no longer that of a dragon, human limbs curled around her body, human hair floated around her like a cloud of seaweed and she opened her eyes to the inky blackness and suddenly in a flash she remembered.

The battle, the Zerg, Mengsk, The hopelessness and the betrayal. She panicked, the Swarm had taken her, her and Sarah. Desperately she reached out with her mind, looking for her friend.

Her memories told her that Sarah was nearby and that all she had to do was to reach out to find her. But she wasn't there. She was alone with the whispers, she could feel her body twisting, shifting, changing. Her mind and body rejected the idea, she uncurled and twisted violently, lashing out with her hands and feet.

She thrashed and turned, trying to connect with the side of her prison. The once comforting liquid of her egg no felt like acid, burning into her skin, burrowing through her cells, unraveling her very DNA to transform her into a twisted mockery of what she had once been.

The whispers were now shouts, terrible shouts that chanted in her mind, demanding she submit, submit to the perfection that the swarm would bring. She screamed, partially in pain and partially to drown out the shouts of the swarm. Her bones felt like they were on fire, she felt her spine lengthen into a long flexible tail, pulling her skin along with it, her shoulders screamed in pain as a pair of wings were painfully thrust through her skin and every pore felt like it had a red hot needle being shoved into it as scales were forced out.

Her head throbbed and ached, the feeling of horns growing from her crown and a mouth full of fangs replacing her old teeth was excruciating. Something whispered that this was happening to fast, that it should take longer than this but she didn't care, too absorbed in the pain to notice.

A voice, painfully familiar echoed though the whispers, silencing them in its wake " **Shorah taygahnoy, kehnehm gihtso** " [Peace my love, you are safe] She stilled as the voice of Veovis soothed her, the pain faded and the dark returned " **Awaken** " he said and she felt her mind rising from the abyss she had fallen into.

* * *

Her eyes opened to the grey light of predawn. Her muscles were still from her nightmare. She didn't toss and turn, instead she went ridged, every muscle clamping down in fear of being seen or heard.

With a weary sigh she sat up, bringing her head forward into her hand and feeling the dampness of her tears. It had been a long time since she had, had that nightmare. But it usually happened after a big jump into a story world as she called them.

She shook her head, knowing there would be many more nights like that before she acclimatized to this world. Quietly she reach over to her pack and after rummaging around inside pulled out a simple maroon linen shirt.

Still sitting in her bedroll she looked around, see no one she quickly pulled of her green shirt, exposing the long scars on her back, a collection of long thin marks showed the results of a flogging. Several scratches marred her shoulders and a large bite mark wrapped around her left shoulder and down to her right hip from when she was a dragon and Thorn had bitten her, it was small on her dragon self, but it had translated badly over to her human form. On her heart was a tattoo of the nautical star in black, faded with time, and on her right shoulder sat the ya'we symbol.

Around her left bicep ran a text in the ancient language, below that was one in Sindarin and underneath that was a line in D'ni It was her mark, she added a line with each world that felt like home to her.

It read: _**Not all who wander are Lost**_ , _But some who are lost do not wish to be found,_ **But know that one never needs to walk alone.**

She pulled the loose full sleeved linen shit over her head and reached into her bag for another pair of clean Cargo pants. This pair was black and reinforce like her other.

After shimming into these she edged out of her bedroll and pulled on the comfortable Marino wool hiker socks before picking up a boot and after turning it upside down and shaking vigorously, poked her sheathed dagger down it to be sure, then pulled it on. After performing the same ritual with the other boot she stood and stretched before sliding into the poses of The battle dances that she had memorized whilst watching Eragon learn it and later altered and perfected among the elves in Arda.

Her muscles warmed up and her mind calmed and expanded around the camp as she slowly worked though the levels and the sun rose causing the camp began to stir.

She was aware of her audience of Cassandra, Varric Solas and Enarel as she performed a deep and complex stretch, breathing deeply into the feelings and ignoring Varric's mutter of "holy shit". She was astounded at how open the minds of everyone was, it was like they were shouting their thoughts, trumpeting their deepest thoughts for all to hear, maybe that was why they were so susceptible to demons, she mused.

Turning from that train of thought she opened herself even more to her surroundings feeling the life in the forest around them, she could feel Cassandra's and Enarel's curiosity as well as Varric's amazement. But what confused her slightly was Solas' reaction.

His was one of disbelief and even anger, curious she probed a little further and saw the reason, the movements she was performing looked like a bastardization of an ancient Elvahn battle technique from Arlathan. He was furious that it was apparently being used by a human. She sighed mentally and pulled herself from his poisonous thoughts, they ate at him, the guilt at his actions so long ago was always present. But he did not think that he was entirely in the wrong, and that sickened her.

He still thought that he had the right to play god, to play with the lives of others and see those not of his kind as little more that mistakes that should have never existed. She had, had it up to her ears with racist pricks who though themselves gods in her last life and she knew that it would only get worse here. But then she had helped fix D'ni from the crash course it had been set on so maybe there was a chance.

Gently she pulled through the last of the dance and allowed her body to relax, she was not sweating or even breathing hard so there was no need to change. Her body felt pleasantly supple and ready for action as she turned to her audience and smiled, bowing dramatically when Varric began to clap enthusiastically.

Still smiling she turned back to her stuff and pulled on her armour, emptying the pockets of her other pants and transferring them to her current pair. The camp returned to its original bustle from before they had spotted her and she rolled up her bed roll, carefully strapping it to her pack again and placing it against a tent wall.

Breakfast consisted of a thick porridge that was bland and far too heavy for her liking. She looked around and spotted a raspberry patch that she had sensed earlier, she plucked a handful of late berries from it and added them to her bowl to make it more palatable. Solas noticed but none of the others did, too busy in forcing the stuff down.

"So what's the plan for today?" she asked as she stirred her porridge, crushing the berries to spread the flavour around before putting it in her mouth.

"We're returning to Haven" Enarel informed her after he swallowed "we are going to be riding in so we need to make our way to Dennet's before we head out." She nodded and sped up her eating, trying to make the food go away as soon as possible.

* * *

They hiked out about a half hour later, making good time on the paths before they reached the stables. Istaril looked around and nodded her head in appreciation, it was a good stable, the walls were solid and the pastures free of holes that could break a horse's leg. A large dirt track that double as the road circled the farm and was clearly used to exercise the horses.

Several well-built horses grazed in the pasture and four stood near the stable saddled and waiting. "Morning Herald" a dark skinned man who must be Dennet called in greeting.

"Morning Horse master" Enarel replied and they walked up to the stable door

"These are the ones I've picked for you to ride back" Dennet informed them, then saw Istaril and frowned "I thought there were only four of you" he grumbled, Istaril took a step forward and bowed at the waist.

"Greetings Horse master, I am a new edition to their party, they did not know I would be joining their company until yesterday afternoon. Do you have a mount to spare that I may use? If not then I shall walk" she explained politely, she had learned early to always be polite to the ones who handled your mounts, otherwise they could get unpleasant.

Dennet snorted "Sure, try that dapple over there" he instructed, pointing out to a dapple grey mare with a black main and tail. She nodded and dropped her pack near the fence, which she then hopped over and move calmly over to the mare. As she drew nearer the horse looked up and gazed at her curiously with soulful brown eyes.

She smiled and calmly began to speak soothing words to the mare in Sindarin. The mare's ears prick up and she took a few steps forward before nuzzling into Istaril's outstretched hand. She continued to croon in Sindarin as she ran her hands over the mare's neck and head, gently fondling the mare's ears, pleased to note that she wasn't head shy.

" _May I ride you beautiful one?"_ she asked quietly, there was a pause, then to her astonishment the horse nodded and moved to present Istaril with her side. Smiling she swung up onto the horse's bare back and directed her over to the gate, laughing at her audience's wide eyes. She moved the horse closer to the gate and leaning down opened it and after moving through closed it again, all without leaving the horse's back.

"She's a beauty horse master, does she have a name?" she asked, smiling as he spluttered for a moment before mutely shaking his head

"I'll get you her tack" he said before turning to the stable.

"How did you do that?" Enarel asked incredulously,

she smirked "I asked" she said simply, dismounting and grabbing a nearby brush, quickly cleaning her mount's coat and checking her hooves, satisfied that her feet were clean and shoes tight.

Ten minutes later they were on their way to Haven. "Oh Hey I forgot, what did you name your horse?" Varric asked curiously from atop his pony

"hmm?" she asked, jolted from her thoughts "oh yes, Mithronar" she said "it means grey lady" She told them before looking back ahead and falling into meditation, carefully categorizing the story into what she could warn them about and what she had to hide.

This was a long and arduous process that involved her sifting through the story and picking out the more harmless things she could let slip and how she would do that, also she was building her backstory that the masses would believe. She would tell the inner circle eventually, once they had earned her trust. Whilst she was doing this the others talked among themselves through journey through the mountains.

* * *

A/N- So what do you think? I'm going to take the lazy person's way out from the languages and just use fonts as I was unable to find the words I needed and for ease of reading. What do you think so far? I had the dream in my head for a while and wanted to use it. Let me know what you think in the reviews, all feedback welcome just don't be cruel about it. If you have questions just ask and I will do my best to clear up any confusion.

Cheers! Mystborn


	3. Memories and Books

**Chapter 3-Memories and Books**

Haven was, in a word: picturesque. The sturdy wooden wall surrounded the wooden houses with steep roofs and timbers greying with age. The paths were well packed and slight depressions were worn into the stone paths from generations of feet and the increased traffic from the town's new residents. A decent sized tent city sat outside the walls, home of the inquisitions forces.

The rows of canvas were neat and the sound of the training soldiers filled the air. Looking on she felt a wave of nostalgia, it look so similar to the other army camps she had lived in over her life. She saw a heavily armoured blond man in a deep chestnut coloured fur cape preceding over the training area calling out instructions and advice.

Cullen Rutherford, ex Templar and now commander of the inquisition's forces. He caught sight of their group as they dismounted and handed their mounts off to the stable hands. The commander raised a hand in greeting before turning back to his duties. "Come on Istaril we need to report and introduce you to the others" Enarel told her, handing his pack off to one of the servants.

She nodded, settling her own pack more comfortably on her shoulders and followed him and Cassandra though the streets. They lost Varric and Solas who both said they had no desire to sit in a meeting and that they had reports to write for Sister Nightingale.

The Chantry loomed over the small town like a scolding parent, at least that's the impression she had. Its stone walls and sheer height setting it apart from the simple wooden buildings that surrounded it.

In front of it stood a tall woman in a pale purple hood whose arms were crossed and a dark skinned shorter woman in ruffled gold and purple silk doubled and trousers holding a clipboard. "Herald! It is good to see you have returned" the shorter woman, Josephine said in a Spanish, well Antivan accent, said to Enarel.

"Yes, I heard you had some trouble with the fighting in the Hinterlands" Leliana added before turning her gaze to Istaril "and I heard the you picked up another recruit" she added, her blue eyes were cool and calculating, running over Istaril in a way that reminded her of a laser scanner.

Footsteps behind them heralded the arrival of Cullen who joined them, nodding cordially at her. Enarel nodded a greeting to his advisers, "let's continue this inside" he said, gesturing to the large double doors of the Chantry.

"Oh of course, lets" Josephine said in a slightly worried tone before leading the party into the cavernous chantry hall.

As Istaril stepped in her sensitive nose was assaulted by the strong smell of some kind of incense. It scratched roughly on the inside of her nose in a way that was almost painful, drying out the inside. It was like a physical blow and she reeled back, hand clutching her nose as she was overcome by sneezes, her system desperately trying to rid itself of the offending stench.

She was doubled over, clutching her sides as her frame was wrack by the violent convulsions. "Oh dear" she heard Josephine fret "what is wrong with her?" she asked, worry heavy in her voice.

"I don't know but she appears to be sneezing" Leliana said apprehensively.

Her last sneeze propelled her back and away from the chantry into cleaner air. She gasped and hacked, sucking in the incense free oxygen still curled in half, her hands now sitting on her knees. "Great Mother, Mithros and Gainel! What's in that stuff? It smells like someone threw Ozorne into a tub of frankincense and lit him on fire!" she gasped pulling herself upright and staring at the now open Chantry and the confused members of the Inquisition.

"What?" Enarel asked a confused frown on his face.

"The incense inside" she said, a slightly frantic look on her face "it smells worse than a Flood hive in there" she told them gesturing at the Chantry.

"The incense?" Asked Josephine puzzled "It is rather strong from the offerings of the faithful in memory of the Divine" she added thoughtfully.

"It's not as strong in the war room" Enarel assured her with a sympathetic look on his face.

"Fine let's get this over with" she said taking a deep gulp of fresh air and following them into the war room quickly, trying not to breathe too much. Enarel was correct, the stench was not as bad in the back, though it still stank. She carefully put her discomfort out of her mind and focused on the group, breathing through her mouth.

"So Introductions" Enarel said hoping to put the incident behind them. "This is our Ambassador Lady Josephine Montilyet, Lady Leliana our ... Scoutmaster, Commander Cullen leader of our troops and you've already met Cassandra." he said pointing at each one in turn. As they were introduced they bowed their heads or bobbed a short curtsy in the case of Josephine.

Istaril nodded and performed a full courtly bow from Tortall with the added elven gesture of her right hand on her heart before straightening and moving her hand from her chest to her lips before saying "Peace and long life, may the stars shine favorably upon our meeting" she said in common to avoid any confusion "I am Lady Istaril Islingr Kehramor."

Her introduction had both Josephine and Leliana furrowing their brows "I have never heard of House Kehramor" Josephine said, her confusion colouring her voice and Leliana was now staring at Istaril intently.

If Istaril had been a lesser woman she would have felt intimidated, but after having stared into the eyes of Takhisis and Sauron she felt nothing. "What land are you from?" Leliana demanded watching her carefully to see if she could detect a lie "I do not recognize your accent" she added.

Istaril smiled, looking directly into Leliana's eyes, refusing to be cowed. "In my tribe I was known as The Woman of Many Lands, in my nation I was known as Wanderwing. I have more names and homes than Varric has stories, just know that I am here to help the Inquisition seal the breach and return order to this world. Will you accept my aid?" she asked, her gaze never wavering as she and Leliana battled with wills, the red head attempting to force her opponent to submit and the Wanderer holding fast.

Finally Istaril had enough and allowed the veil she held in her mind to drop, allowing her power and age to show through. Leliana jumped back slightly in shock at the unexpected reveal before looking away, unable to hold Istaril's ancient and saddened gaze.

"We are honoured for your assistance Lady Kehramor, Welcome to the Inquisition. I will assign you a home here in haven and you will be a member of the Herald's ground team yes?" Josephine said nervously, already scribbling furiously on her clipboard.

Istaril nodded "Yes, thank you Ambassador Montilyet" she said, inclining her head the correct amount for a lady of a great house to an ambassador and followed the aide the ambassador summoned and informed of the change through the chantry and to the left, past the apothecary to a small cabin next door to Solas.

"This will be your home in Haven milady, meals can be found in the tavern just down there" the aide said, giving a quick bow and leaving her standing in before the simple wooden door.

She looked around and saw Solas leaning against his wall watching her with keen and curious eyes. She nodded amiably to him and let herself into the cabin. The inside was barren save for a small bed with a rough woolen blanket over a simple straw mattress, a simple wooden table that doubled as a desk near the window and a trunk with several shelves above it sat against the far wall.

A small stone fireplace sat empty with no wood or kindling and the shutters of the window were closed against the cold outside. Looking around she nodded, it wasn't much but it would serve. Quickly she pulled off her pack and placed it on the bed before leaving the cabin and heading to the communal wood pile.

She moved several arm loads of split logs and some kindling to her cabin, pleased to note that no one had made any attempts to search her things yet, and after a few minutes had a hesitant fire beginning in the hearth. She spent some time simply sitting cross legged on the floor, staring into the growing flames, carefully nurturing it with steadily bigger logs until it crackled merrily and filled the cabin with its flickering light and cheery warmth.

The cabin now at a more pleasurable temperature she moved to her bed and pulled out a collapsible lantern and a pouch that was enchanted to be nearly bottomless, inside were long lasting D'ni fire marbles. She fished on out and clicked it into place in the lantern.

By inserting the marble she activated the lamp and it began to give off a strong and steady amber glow. With the interior now brightly lit she began to unpack some things from her bag. Several sets of clothes that she transferred to the chest after neatly refolding them, several books and journals that she set on the table along with her writing kit, she unslung her bow and quiver which she hung on a peg near the door, her cloak hung in the one next to it, a spare pair of boots took their place next to the door.

A few trinkets were placed on the table as well, they included a sphere the size of a walnut made of a silver metal with several dials and markings on it, a calendar sphere she had designed centuries ago, it displayed the day, month and the year since her first jump. A chess board made to be folded as a case for the pieces made from very aged wood, well-worn and battered from its long years of service. Several stone jars filled with salves and ointments and bottles with potions, oils and tinctures lined the shelves.

Finally she removed her armour, which she placed gently on the chest, careful of her razor sharp paulderon, then in only her loose red shirt, black pants and boots, she sat down and picked up the empty linking book, she gently unstopped the jar of special ink and began to write, tying the book to this cabin in this world through the subtle ways of the art that she had learnt from her husband. Time passed but she was headless to its march, she only paused to add another log to the fire or to rub a cramp from her hand.

So deep was her concentration that she didn't hear the knock at her door or see Solas poke his head in. he watched her for a time before withdrawing his head, quietly closing the door. It was passing midnight when she finished, the dark ink marking the pages with finality. With a sigh she leaned back and pulled out a battered pocket watch from belt. After confirming the time she closed it with a quiet snap and stood locking the door and looking around carefully before dousing the lantern.

In the deep ruby glow of the fire she stood and picked up the book before reaching to the one on her belt and after flipping open the cover page, she pressed her hand on the glowing panel, and vanished.

* * *

She appeared on a stone terrace belonging to a small stone house that sat on the edge of a high cliff overlooking the sea. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, the scent of the sea mixed with the faint smell of pine from the forest behind the house. A soft breeze blew of the ocean and moved her hair away from her face, the stars swirled overhead and a pale moon bathed the ocean below in silver light.

Faint lights danced across the sky in curtains of blue, green and purple, and she smiled feeling the love that this age had been written with. When she had revealed her true nature to Veovis he had been sad and for a time angry, but vowed to find a way to aid her in her journey. So he had written this world for her.

He had begun in secret shortly after she had revealed her secret and five years before their wedding. He had continued to write it for the following two hundred years of their marriage. He had built this home for her and stocked it with enough materials to last her several centuries and ensured that the age contained the plants and materials she would need. A large underground library filled with the knowledge of his people was below the house, secured in a nest of stone.

They had spent a great deal of time in this place and the halls were filled with memories, portraits and tapestries of people and places hung from the walls and thick carpets sat on the floors. She looked at her watch and nodded, moving to the door that led into the kitchen, dining room and living room, in a corner was an alcove set in the stone wall with carved doors, she moved over and opened them. The linking book to D'ni sat there and she opened it with shaking hands.

She felt her hopes fall, the book was now blank confirming her suspicions that the Powers-That-Be would let her keep this space but prevent her from going back to any of the worlds. A small tear slipped from her eye as she placed the book for Thedas on the pedestal, moving the now blank D'ni book to a small shelf set in the nearby wall.

She took a step back and looked around the house, tears trailing down her face as she breathed in the achingly familiar sights, sounds a scents. She saw a glimmer in the corner and knew it was one of the enchanted objects that she had placed to keep the house clean and dust free. She had not been here since Veovis' death and even now she felt both comforted and smothered by the memories that lingered here. Almost in a daze she wandered up the stirs that led to the bedrooms and study, traveled down the hallways the glowed in the moonlight.

The bedroom had large windows and a small balcony that overlooked both the cliff and the forest with a queen sized bed with a thick comfortable mattress and clean sheets with a thick down comforter, all in deep green embroidered with the symbols for love, family, health and joy.

She stood and looked around the rooms, there were little trinkets sitting on the bedside table and a sheet of paper sitting on the desk by the window. Curious she walked over to it and picked it up. It was a letter, from Veovis. He had had it placed here whilst he had been on his death bed. She had refused to leave his side during that time and he knew it would take time for her to return.

Tears poured down her cheeks as she looked at his familiar hand. He had been the longest partner she had ever had and the most recent, her other lovers had never really lasted beyond a decade or two at most, but She had been with Veovis for over two centuries. He had loved her with all his fiery heart and she had returned the favour, knowing the pain that would come after but not caring.

She sat at the desk, holding the letter tightly to her chest as she looked out over the calm sea and grieved for her love. She drifted off sometime later curled up in the chair, but woke before dawn, carefully folding the letter and tucking it in her belt. Moving quickly she walked down the stairs and linked back to Thedas.

* * *

 **A/N-** So here is my third chapter. to describe what she did when she wrote the book she essentially created a bridge from one universe to another. The D'ni called this the Art. It is the act of using very specific books with incredibly detailed descriptions to form links to the various other worlds in the multiverse. The-Powers-That-Be are letting her have this refuge because she has been doing this for approximately 1,247 years. She needs some kind of permanence now. Also it allows her to have more than just what she can carry. I wanted to giver Istaril a form of retreat, a place where she does not have to be the woman who knows. A place where she can let her guard down. Now I have a few small requests. Should I give her a romance? I will open a poll for this and I want suggestions of worlds and stories she has been in, what titles does she posses and what was her original name, who else has she been married too. ( she has been married three times, Veovis and two others.) Finally should Thedas be her last stop or should she continue?

Her relationship to gods is one of an equal. She knows gods exist and has met many, so when she prays the gods can hear her, but its more of a friend greeting another rather than a worshiper. They also can't interact across realms, but they have been known to send messages through their domains, ie the sun gods can send little letters from home, dream gods, ect.

As always tell me what you think and ask me questions if I wasn't clear.

Cheers! Mystborn


	4. the journey

**Chapter 4- Journeys**

She was standing in her cabin once more, it was chilly after the balmy air of Tsahvahn and the lack of a fire. She knelt and kindled another fire, basking in the warmth as she went through her pattern dance, stretching and warming her muscles before she pulled on her grey Lorien hood, wrapping her lower face in her scarf and placed her cloak overtop, forgoing her armour but pulling on her black gloves and ensuring her sword and a few knives were on her person.

She unbolted the door and stepped into the grey light of predawn and walked quietly through the empty streets of Haven. Well it was not entirely empty. Guards patrolled the streets carrying torches to light their way.

They stared at her as she moved towards the outer wall, some returning the nods that she gave them. Soon she stood on the wall, watching the eastern sky begin to lighten. Sentries cast her uncertain glances as she stood still as a statue, her face to the east as she ignored the biting cold. The sun rose with a quiet majesty, bathing the frosty peaks in its warm light.

Once day had truly arrived she murmured a quiet prayer/greetings to the Gods and bowed, a habit she had picked up among the more religious realms she had moved through that and the gods were real (it never hurt to be on their good side). After she was finished she turned and walked off the ramparts and towards the tavern.

The inside was about half full, members of the night shift in to get a meal before bed whilst those of the day shift were hunched over bowls of porridge with groggy expressions. She sat quietly next to the fire and pulled down her face mask and her hood. The owner came over to her and she ordered breakfast, the owner, Flissa agreed to open a tab until Istaril could recived her pay.

The porridge was hot and flavoured, much better from the grey cement they had made in camp, she happily at it with the mug of tea that Flissa had recommended. The shift slowly changed and she watched as the other members of the inner circle entered. Leliana looked fresh as a daisy whilst Josephine looked groggy and slightly ruffled, both from her outfit and no doubt a night of administrating rather than sleep.

Cassandra marched in dressed in her armour, with the exact same stoic expression her face appeared to frozen in and Cullen picked up his food only to turn on his heel and march back out. Enarel, Varric and Solas spotted her and made their way over "Hey Feathers" greeted Varric who looked far too cheerful, according to Solas' expression.

"May we join you?" Enarel asked curiously, she nodded and smiled a little and they pulled up chairs, Varric climbing into his a little awkwardly before settling down with their meals.

"Good morning" she said to them all after they had settled and began their meal "Good dreams?" She asked them politely and blinked as Enarel and Solas looked at her sharply. She almost groaned allowed as she remembered that dreams here were a very touchy subject "apologies I did not mean to cause offence" she told them, tucking into her food so as to allow them time to recover.

"Ye,s we had pleasant dreams" Solas replied, "they were very informative" she looked up to see him staring at her intently.

She smiled at him "that is good, one can learn much from Gainel if one listens" she said before turning to Enarel and ignoring the surprise and confusion that flashed briefly across the surface of everyone's mind.

"Do you have any plans for further travel?" she asked him. Enarel nodded before swallowing his mouthful of food.

"We are heading for Val Royeaux to meet with the Mothers of the Chantry. An ally of ours, Mother Gisselle has given us a list of those we should speak with. I was hoping you would accompany Cassandra, Varric and myself."

Istaril blinked in slight confusion "Solas is not coming with us?" she asked looking at the bald elf who shook his head.

"I wish to remain behind and study the breach, hopefully that will help us determine our course of action on whether to approach the mages or the Templars."

She nodded at the sense in this and turned back to Enarel "When would we leave?" she asked

"today right after we finish eating, we would be gone for four days, can you be ready to move?" he answered and she nodded, hurriedly scraping the last of her food into her mouth and gulping the last few mouthfuls of tea before she stood and moved back to her cabin and tucked her books, personal trinkets and some clothes back into her pack, which she had left mostly full in case of such an emergency.

She noticed that her lantern, books and journal were a few centimeters off of their original position, showing that someone had looked through her things. She didn't mind, there was nothing that would tell them anything. The books were in languages they could not read and the trinkets were worthless to anyone but her.

That and such a reaction was routine by now, she had stopped being offended by the initial search by now. With her things packed she quickly shrugged into her armour, shuffling a few layers, like putting the mithrill and vest under her hood with the pauldrons and bandoleer over top.

She tucked her sleeves into her gloves and laced up her leather and steel vambraces with their accompanying assassin hidden blade, (gifts from Altair). Then she sat on the bed and slid on her poleyn (knee guard) and then laced on her greaves. Interspersing these actions with strapping on even more knives.

Once this was finished she pulled her hair back with a pair of braids after giving it a quick finger comb and grimacing at how oily it was. All these actions completed she slung her Shield, bow and quiver onto her back, picked up her pack and walked out into the cool mountain sunshine.

Setting a quick pace she strode down to the stables, joining her travel companions. Varric greeted her jovially, which she returned, Enarel smiled and was polite, and Cassandra glared at her and grunted. She returned their greetings with a smile before she attached her pack behind her saddle, checked her cinches, chest collar and stirrups and swung up onto Mithronar's back.

The mare pranced a little as Istaril settled herself, twitching her tail as Istaril maneuvered her cloak and sword into comfortable position. Once they were all settled they followed Enarel's bay along the path that led through the mountains to Orlais.

* * *

Leliana watched as the Herald's party rode away, taking the newcomer with them. She frowned as she stalked back over to her tent and stared at the hastily copied page from what they assumed was Istaril's journal from the handwritten nature of the book. According to her agent, she had several books written in different languages, none of which were even vaguely familiar.

She flicked through the collection of papers containing the clumsy copies of examples of the scripts from her books. One was written in what looked like some form of runic script similar to what the dwarves used, but her dwarven expert had been baffled, said that if read like dwarfish it was gibberish. Three others were filled with three different styles of glyphs, but the bindings on these books were ancient and in good condition. Her lantern added yet another problem, it had no oil, or wick no candle or source of flame, yet there had been reports of a steady amber light being seen under her door and around the window shutters late into the night.

Then after the light had been doused the cabin had become deathly still, no sounds of breathing, almost as if it were unoccupied. The door had been bolted and no one had left, leaving her with a mystery on her hands, she hated mysteries. "Leliana I have looked through the registries like you asked" Josephine said, entering her tent, ever present clipboard ready and covered in scribbles.

"I have found no mentions of a Lady Istaril, or a lady Islingr or a Lady Kehramor. In short according to those names she does not exist." The ambassador finished looking at her old friend.

"Damn it" Leliana swore hitting the table "She stands like a warrior, moves like a rogue carries enough weaponry to outfit a platoon, wears armour we have never seen, speaks and writes in languages we do not know, has an accent we cannot place but behaves and speaks like a lady of a great house without the arrogance. Who the hell is she?" She ranted, pacing around the small space.

"What do you think Josie?" she asked, falling back into her cold mask.

"She is intriguing" Josephine admitted, chewing absently on the end of her quill, a recent habit "Her eyes are so sad, and she looks like she has seen much. A mercenary or a soldier perhaps?" she asked and Leliana shook her head

"Her gear is too piecemeal but of too high a quality for that. No mercenary would carry a shield with heraldry on it. The shield itself was far superior make than for a mere sell sword, and her sword was of a far higher quality then any I've ever seen and as a soldier ditto. But did you see the knife on her right calf? That was made of far substandard quality, scrap metal if I'm guessing right. No I think she is some kind of traveler who has been far." Leliana admitted,

"Cassandra said that she admitted to ignoring much, I wonder what that means, I will try harder to find something about her in the meantime. Goodbye Leli" Josephine said, moving back into the Chantry.

Leliana waved absently before staring at the sheaf of paper that was all they had, along with a rough sketch murmuring "Who are you?"

* * *

"So then Hawke walks up and punches the high dragon right in the face, and it dropped dead right there on the ground!" Varric cried dramatically, waving his arms for extra effect. Istaril laughed at the dwarf's antics and Cassandra's disgusted snort.

"Nice one Varric" she praised him, holding her sides as she got her breath back under control, wiping tears out of her eyes

"Ok I have one for you. So I served on this Ship called the Normandy, and we had this one member in our crew who was terrified of spiders…" She began only to be interrupted by Enarel

"Sorry to stop you but were almost at the gates" he informed them, so we need to act professional" he said, his apology clear in his voice. They had been walking up to the gates of the city from where they had left their horses and packs with the members of the inquisition camped a ways away from the walls.

Istaril sighed and nodded "I tell you the rest later Varric" she promised.

"You better, that sounds like it is pretty good" He told her, shrugging his shoulders and shifting Bianca into a better position for a quick draw. Istaril did the same with her shield.

"The city still mourns" Cassandra observed quietly as they walked up the causeway toward the gates. Istaril looked at the city and frowned. The city did not look like it was mourning, at least not to her eyes. The people were dressed in the frilliest clothes she had ever seen, all in eye searing bright colours, though she did admit that the colours at least matched. This was added to by the fact that the whole population wore ornate masks.

A couple walking past them caught sight of them and the woman gasped, turning and fleeing back into the city. "Just a guess Seeker but I think they know who we are" Varric remarked sarcastically and Cassandra rolled her eyes

"your skills of observation never fail to impress me Varric" she deadpanned and Istaril sniggered.

A scout ran up to them and quickly dropped to a knee "My lord herald!"

Cassandra looked at the scout "You're one of Leliana's people" she observed "What have you found?"

The scout swallowed nervously "the Chantry Mothers await you, but so do a great many Templars!" She told the breathlessly and Cassandra's eyebrows rose

"there are Templars here?" she asked and the scout nodded vigorously before pressing on

"The people seem to think the Templars will protect them… from the inquisition" she finished the last revelation with a scandalized tone.

"The fearful will believe much, especially when it is what they want to be true." Istaril remarked sadly "They see the Templars as a force of protection. In these uncertain times they will cling to what is familiar, rather than what is true" she told her companions.

"They are gathered on the other side of the market, that's where the Templars intend to meet you" the scout told them, catching her breath but her tone still filled with worry. "Only one thing to do then" Cassandra muttered, striding forward with Enarel.

Istaril looked at the scout and helped her up "thank you for the information, return to Haven and inform them of the situation. In the event that we do not return" she instructed the scout with a smile, the scout looked worriedly at Cassandra who was scowling at Istaril.

Sighing the Seeker nodded, sending the scout away "Do not do that again" the seeker snarled before resuming her stalk through the gates to the centre of the city.

Istaril shook her head at her slip, she was so used to being in charge that she had naturally slipped into the role of a noble, and she would have to quell that reaction soon.

The city was, to her eyes, vulgar in its displays of wealth. Golden lion statues sat everywhere and all the buildings in the square were covered in gold leaf ornamentation, she sighed mentally at the waste, knowing what it cost for this city to gleam the way it did, and not in terms of coin. Groups of people gasped and muttered as they passed, most were fearful and many were hostile.

A Chantry Mother stood on a platform next to the gallows and spoke authoritatively to the awaiting crowd. Istaril did not really listen as the woman prattled on, gesticulating wildly and throwing accusations at their group. Instead she looked around the square, her eyes scanning the upper roof tops for an archer she knew was there. A slight shifting and the sun glinting off of some blond hair gave away the elf's position, it would have been too subtle for anyone else to notice, but her draconic eyes saw and pinpointed the movement.

She heard the crowed react loudly and she turned to see the Chantry Mother on the ground where she had been knocked by the armoured fist of a Templar. She watched the whole scene unfold dispassionately, remaining still as a statue as Lord Seeker Lucius tore a strip off of Cassandra and refusing to move when they tried to push her out of the way.

The Lord Seeker looked at her in surprise and anger as he bounced off her shoulder that he had tried to push passed, she in turn looked into the creatures mind and sent a little message "Fear me little demon, for I shall be your doom." The Demon's eyes widened in fear and he hurried around her, all but running from her. She turned and watched the pretender go, her face a stony mask as she stared after them.

"What was that?" Enarel asked "he looked afraid of you" Cassandra noticed, looking at Istaril "Why?" she demanded.

Turning back to her companions Istaril answered "The Lord Seeker is not who he seems. He fears me because I saw what he was hiding" with that she turned, ignoring Cassandra's demands and began walking toward the prone Chantry Mother who still lay where she had fallen.

"You played a dangerous gamble Mother" she told the priestess gently, crouching down near her "and it has failed. What will you do now child?" she asked quietly so only the Mother could hear her.

The Mother stared up into Istaril's ancient gaze and shivered at the weight of it. "I…I don't know" she answered hesitantly, looking lost and vulnerable "I don't know what to believe anymore" she admitted, tears forming in her eyes.

"Cast out fear child, there is no room for anything until you cast out fear" Istaril told her, holding out her hand to help the mother up. She stared at Istaril's hand in confusion before taking it hesitantly and allowing Istaril to pull her to her feet.

"Who are you? She asked with no small amount of trepidation.

Returning to her comrades Istaril replied over her shoulder "I am a Wanderer"

* * *

A/N- Here is the next. About mind reading: She makes a very large effort to not ready people's minds but the minds of Thedas are so open that she can't help but hear something. As such she is essentially emphatic but chooses to ignore what she hears most of the time in casual conversation. I enjoyed driving Leliana crazy with the lack of information available to her on Istaril. so once more check the poll for the romance is open and Pm me with what stories you would like her to have participated in, what titles she has and what you think her original name should be as I'm trying to narrow down my choices.

Cheers! Mystborn


	5. New Faces

**Chapter 5- New faces**

"What did you say to her?" Varric asked her as she returned to their group "she looks like she has seen a ghost" he added glancing back at the Chantry mother who was staring after Istaril, her face white as a sheet.

"I told her to stop letting fear dictate her actions, then I told her I am a wanderer and returned to you guys" she answered, following Enarel across the market.

"We have just recruited another member for the Inquisition" he told her nodding his head back to a merchant

"That's good we…" She stopped as her ears detected the sound of a bow being fired. Moving faster than the eye could blink she whipped out her bow, twisted into position, caught the messaged arrow and allowed the paper to continue off the arrow onto the ground. She then twisted the arrow put it to her own bow, pulled and loosed, quickly firing off three more, all in one fluid movement.

If she had calculated right (and she had) the four arrows would pin Sera to the roof. A loud cry of "Fuck!" echoed to her ears, but she was already moving, sprinting across the square, slinging her bow and then she parkoured up the side of the building, following the sounds of cursing to her prey. There were startled shouts behind her as she moved, she vaguely heard Varric noticed the letter and Cassandra yelling at her, but she didn't care.

She leapt up the building like a squirrel, clinging to tiny cracks and ledges as she swung up, at the end of the wall she jumped and extended the hidden hook blade, catching herself on the edge of the roof before pulling her body over the top and sprinting toward the struggling elf.

"Shit! Effin Ass biscuit" she shrieked at Istaril as the wanderer sprinted over the roofs to the chimney running up to her and pressing the elf's shoulder against the brick and extending her wrist blade

"Why are you trying to kill the Herald" she demanded, her eyes cold.

"What!" Her prisoner shrieked wriggling against Istaril's iron grip "I'm not tryin' to kill 'im! Jus' wann'ed to give 'em a message! Had a plan to meet you lot tonight!" she said, becoming a little frantic toward the end under Istaril's icy gaze.

"Hey Feathers the arrow had a message on it!" Varric yelled up at her from the balcony below her position. "Says that we are supposed to find the "red things" and it's signed from Red Jenny!"

Istaril played her role of ignorance well, snapping her eyes back to Sera "Your with Red Jenny?" she asked sharply, staring at her prisoner.

"Yeah, yeah! That's me, I'm with Red Jenny!" the elf said quickly, a small amount of terror in her eyes.

"Oh well then" Istaril replied her voice changing from threatening to enthusiastic, retracting her blade and reaching forward to yank out her arrows "Carry on then, see you tonight!" she called cheerily, running off the edge of the room and landing in a roll on the balcony with her comrades.

"Your effin mad!" came a cry from above ad she smiled shaking her head

"we have a meeting tonight, let's find the red things" she said nonchalantly, studiously ignoring Cassandras glare.

"You let them escape?" she demanded angrily, grabbing Istaril's bicep in a vicelike grip.

Istaril turned, her eyes met Cassandra's and she spoke in a quiet voice "She meant no harm and only wanted to communicate with us on her terms. She has the potential to be a great asset, in my opinion she will be a good friend." She pulled her arm out of the Seekers grip and followed Enarel through the streets.

* * *

Idly she watched as they recived the invitation to Vivien's soiree and followed Enarel around as he led them on a search for the "red things" for meeting Red Jenny. As they neared the gate an elven woman with short dark hair and in dark blue robes approached them. Istaril stood to the side and listened casually to the conversation, skimming the surface thoughts of those around her.

What got her attention was the waves of magic swirling around the grand enchanter. She squinted at Fiona and realized where she had seen this magical pattern before. This was not The Grand Enchanter, or even alive. It was a close facsimile to the simulacrum that her friend Numair was so fond of using. She wondered what the real Fiona was experiencing, whether or not she was currently aware of her doppelganger or if she was only used as a template and not a remote control.

None the less she held her tongue, she had learned the hard way that revealing too much would only cause problems, she knew this story could work out without her. She was just there to minimalize casualties and to prevent them from being led astray. The day ended rather anticlimactically after the bouts of excitement and as the shadows fell they went to the rendezvous with Sera, though only Istaril knew the elf's name.

They fought their way through the various thugs and minions with such poor training that it was almost sad, until they reached the courtyard. The confrontation when as it was shown in the game, except Sera seemed a little jumpier.

Scanning them carefully, obviously looking for someone. Istaril smirked from where she stood in the shadows at the back of the group, her cowl up and her cloak wrapped around her, hiding her from view. "Where's the tit who caught my arrow" she demanded "She your guard dog or something?" she jabbed, clearly hopping to get a reaction.

Istaril didn't want to disappoint "Not a guard dog" she murmured with a smile, making the elf jump a foot in the air with a cry of "shite!"

"Just someone who has had some experience with assassins, it tends to make one quick on the draw." She explained with a smiled from within the confines of her hood.

Sera squinted at her suspiciously "so that wasn't magic" she asked, still staring at Istaril intently.

The wanderer shook her head "nope, just a try I learn from the Shang Dragon" she said and nearly killed the elf when Sera lunged forward, grabbing her by the front of her vest and dragging her in close.

"You're goin' to teach me how to do that, yeah?" she asked/demanded.

Istaril blinked in confusion for a moment before she smiled "If you join the Inquisition, then yes. I will teach you." She told the blond who jumped away and turned back to Enarel

"So can I join?" she demanded and everyone else blinked in shock at the abrupt about face.

Enarel overcame his shock quickly and nodded "very well. Welcome to the inquisition Sera" he said formally and her grin was borderline feral

"you won't regret this" she told them and giggled "so where you lot staying?" she asked, falling into step with Enarel as they walked through the dark streets.

"We have an inn we are staying at, but I have to go to a soiree in two hours" he informed her, leading the way through the streets. "Don't worry about me" he told his companions "Leliana has arranged for me to be escorted there by some of her people, so you guys go and relax."

Cassandra protested, Varric frowned and Istaril nodded quietly, still in her hood and drifting from shadow to shadow with eerie stillness. Sera looked back at her and frowned "that's just not natural" she informed the rest of the party, indicating Istaril "no one should be that quiet" she said with an air of finality. Istaril smirked and sent a mental command to the cloak causing it to blend even more with its surroundings, Sera just scowled and turned away muttering to herself.

* * *

The inn was clean and the food there was good, Istaril settled herself by the fire in the common room with the others waiting with them for Enarel to return. They had all doffed their armour and bathed before returning to the common room for food, and drink. They were in regular clothes as the proprietor frowned on people who ate with their armour on in his esteemed establishment.

Istaril sat now in a clean pair of comfortable brown leggings, her boots and a forest green tunic, her hair still damp from her bath but her collection of thin braids all redone neatly with their beads, and her feathers had been cleaned and remained undamaged thanks to the spell to keep them intact. Her circlet still sat on her brow and glittered in the fire light, drawing looks from Sera and the other patrons.

They were all doing something with their hands as they waited, Varric was writing, Cassandra was cleaning her sword (much to the ire of the inn keeper), Sera was mauling an apple with a knife and Istaril was spinning. The others had been surprised when she had pulled out the intricately carved wooden drop spindle and dyed red flax fibers and began to twist, feeding the fibers into the growing thread as it formed.

She was humming a quiet Eldar (Elf from Arda) tune and lost in her work when Sera plunked down next to her and rudely jabbed her shoulder "What's with the crown" she demanded staring at the offending piece of jewelry. Istaril blinked and looked up from her work, expertly catching the spindle before it could turn the other way and undo her work.

"It's called a circlet, and it was a parting gift from a queen I met whilst on a quest" Sera snorted disbelievingly but this caught the attention of the others and Varric leaned forward eagerly his eyes alight with questions and excitement, Cassandra looking up from her blade and a guarded expression of curiosity.

"A queen? A quest? Sounds like a good story Feathers, will you tell us?" he asked pulling out fresh paper and quill, sitting ready. Istaril looked at them and smiled still spinning.

"Very well Varric, though you may not believe me when I do and I shall only tell my tale for as long as I have flax to spin." She told him, holding up the skein of unspun fibers that rested in her lap. Everyone nodded and she smiled before closing her closed her eyes and remembering, falling into the memories easily and picking through them to tell the story.

When she opened her eyes they seemed deeper, and almost appeared to glow with an inner light. She spoke and the others jumped a little in surprise at the change in her voice. It was fuller, her accent had become more pronounced as she spoke, it rose and fell in a lilting cadence that seemed more sung then spoken.

The sat enraptured as she began her tale. "Many years ago in the land of Arda there was an evil, so corrupt was his soul, so foul his hatred and so black was his heart that all feared him. He was cunning and possessed great knowledge and he tricked the greatest smiths of the age to create rings of great power."

Her eyes were far away but her hands continued to work steadily. "Three rings for the elven Kings under the sky. Seven for the Dwarf Lords in their halls of Stone. Nine for Mortal men, doomed to die. And one for the Dark Lord on his Dark throne in Mordor where the shadows lie." She recited, and the air seemed to grow still with her recitation.

She continued her tale and chronicled the story of the war of the ring, speaking of Heroes and Villains, Traitors and Allies, Lovers and Enemies. Her audience was silent, enthralled by her voice and story, Varric sat there, quill forgotten as he listened, eyes wide as if he were a child. Sera had a look of awe on her face as Istaril spoke, her eyes glued on the wanderers face as if it held the answer to life, the universe and everything. Cassandra too did not escape the enchantment of her voice, locked into the tale of romance and heroism. And all through the tale Istaril spun.

* * *

Enarel stumbled into the inn exhausted from his day. All he wanted at this moment was a meal and a bed, both of which was now almost within his grasp. The common room was dim and nearly empty. The other patrons had left for home or their rooms and the inn keeper had retired for the night. Yet there remained a small knot of people by the fire, his ears picked up a lilting voice from what looked like Istaril who sat near the hearth spinning red flax.

Varric, Cassandra and Sera were sitting close and listening to her, enraptured and not even noticing his arrival. Curious he walked closer in time to hear more

"…have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes, drums... drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow lurks in the dark. We cannot get out... they are coming." Her voice was filled with a terrible foreboding and her eyes seemed to glow an eerie blue in the light of the fire. Cassandra went rigid in fear, Varric shivered and Sera was starting to breathe faster in both excitement and terror. Enarel stood stock still, listening with all his might and for a moment nothing could be heard, even the fire seemed to hold its breath.

"Crash!" Istaril cried making her audience jump "Pippin had touched a corpse sitting on a ledge and it fell down a well, crashing down the sides, the bucket followed and the whole mine echoed with the sound."

Istaril's face was cast in shadows and her voice grew lower filled with a dark menace "the mine echoed in silence and we all breathed a sigh of relief that nothing had woken. Then we heard it… drums" she paused and everyone's heart stopped even Enarel leaned forward, his heart in his throat.

Istaril looked up and caught his eyes and she blinked. This seemed to break the spell and she picked up her spindle, the thread now finished. "I shall tell you more another time." She told them, an evil glint in her eye.

"NO!" cried Casandra grabbing her wrist "you cannot leave it like that! What happened next? Please you must tell us!" she begged, she eyes desperate. Istaril merely shook her head and stood firm against their pleading and Sera's cursing.

"I said I would tell my tale for as long as I had thread to spin. Find me again when I have more if you want more of the tale." She told them with a mischievous smile before she inclined her head to them all "May the gods watch over your dreams" she told them before she walked up the stairs to her room.

Enarel looked at his fellows in confusion after she was gone, ignoring Sera's cursing "what was that?" he asked and Varric shook his head

"Feathers was telling us the story of how she got her circlet. Turns out it is a whole lot bigger than we thought. She has been telling it for three hours." He said, awe colouring his voice before he looked down and caught sight of his empty pages "Shit I need to go and write this down before I forget" he told them rushing to a table, dipping his quill and beginning to scribble furiously.

"Don't you dare make anything up!" Cassandra commanded him in a deadly voice and the dwarf shook his head.

"No fear Seeker, the story she told is the one I'm writing. She is a better story teller than I could ever be." He turned away from them, muttering to himself as he tried to copy his memory of her story out onto the paper. Enarel looked at the three of them and shook his head before he dragged his tired body up the stairs and into his room.

* * *

Sera crept to the room they had given her and curled up on the bed, it was real posh, no bug and with real sheets. She snorted and reminded herself not to get too comfortable, people always told her to leave in the end. That or they did something monumentally stupid and she would leave anyway.

She snorted at the thought but grinned again at the thought of what she could learn from that odd not posh noble…lady…thing who could catch arrows and climb walls like a squirrel. Still smiling at the thought she fell asleep and fell into dreams of wandering around a dark tunnel catching arrows with a bucket on her head.

* * *

A/N Merry Christmas to you all! and A happy New Year! I hope that you are all enjoying this story, I wanted to give Istaril something to do with her hands and I settled on spinning. I do it as I find the repetitive motions to be relaxing, not only that but she needs to be able to make thread to patch her clothes as she isn't always in a place where she can acquire thread.

I feel that her story telling causes her to slip a little more into her accent which has changed over the years, She has spent a lot of her life speaking and thinking in very lyrical languages (Sindarin is particularly beautiful) and thinking of her time in Middle Earth leads her to speak with an elven accent, also when she was a dragon she spent a lot of her formative years around Arya, often speaking with her mind to mind and going on long scouting missions with just the two of them.

Though she has memories of a life before, her brain was still redeveloping in that form and she hasn't been and infant since, leading her to adopt many of Arya's speech patterns rather like a forma of a child imitating a parent. This. followed by a lot of contact with the elves has lead to her sounding like one if she gets agitated or excited.

Her psionics mean that her stories are more compelling, you feel more when she tells them, as her emotions get projected just the tiniest amount. Her eyes are from being a dragon and having superior night vision. If you were to shine a light at her eyes in the dark her eyes would glow like a cat's.

Again I hope you have enjoyed this so far, don't forget to vote about the love interest, hope you all have a fabulous New Year Everyone!

Cheers! Mystborn!


	6. Traveling

**Chapter 6- Traveling**

The morning washed over the gilded city and caused the buildings to shine like an answering refrain to the sun's light. Istaril had watched it from her window as she eased through her stretches, preparing for the several days' worth of riding. Her sleep had not been peaceful, but so far none of her nights were. All of her worst memories surfaced and plagued her, memories of battles, torture, loss and her deaths were her lot at night.

The Battle for Earth against the Reapers and the final moments on the Citadel during her third jump had been last night's memory of choice. She had relived the final battle in excruciating detail, felt every wound and emotion as if it were fresh and awoke with tears of pain and sorrow on her face and her muscles aching from their tight clenched posture all night.

She saw Garrus being hit by Harbinger's weapon, his body being hauled up the ramp of the Normandy, bleeding and coughing, she could hear his voice saying he could still fight. She had told him that she would continue, but that she might not survive.

He had grabbed her and nuzzled into her cheek, his hoarse whisper of "I love you, spirits watch over you" had nearly broken her, she had kissed his bloody cheek and told him she loved him and to adopt the child they had wanted, but to not be afraid of loving again, he had nodded sadly and thrust his visor into her hands before being dragged to the medbay by a crewman.

Tali who was covered in blood and coughing from her exposure through multiple suit breaches had hugged her fiercely before pressing her knife into Istaril's hand. She could still hear her sister's voice whispering the Quarian blessing "Keelah Se'lai Sister. May the ancestors guide you." She had smiled weakly and begun to cry, sobbing as she sprinted away from her lover and her sister, catching Shepard at the beam and joining him on the citadel.

She had stabbed the fucking Illusive man with Tali's knife after she had stopped him from controlling Shepard, then shoved her friend away from the controls and the hologram of the child that was the Catalyst. "Sorry John but I can't let you do this." She had telepathically sent to him before sinking to her knees at the catalyst's controls.

She had recived a flash of insight from the Power in that moment. This had been what she was sent to change. Kneeling before the controls and watching the battle play out before her she had begun to sing, her voice weaving a spell in the Ancient Language as she sacrificed her life energy to power the spell and the citadel to amplify her energy to eliminate the Reapers.

The answer had come to her in the final moment of seeing the catalyst play John like a fiddle, he was indoctrinated and she had smiled sadly at him as he tried to drag her from her position. Shepard had ordered her and threatened, even pleaded with her to stop as she began to smoke from her energy expenditure. She had smiled sadly at him as she continued her intricate song, weaving the spell to keep the Geth and EDI free and alive.

In her last moment with the spell completed she remembered Shepard exclaiming at the sudden atomization of the Reapers and his realisation at what she had done, his tearful voice promising to make sure she was honoured for her sacrifice and she had breathed her last pain filled word "Peace". That had been the first time she had died, and the trauma from that had taken three months in an empty world which she had spent in intense meditation as taught to her by Samara.

Even now she could feel the pain of the incantation ripping through her frame, igniting every strand of DNA on fire as she had burned herself from that world. She shook her head and focused even more intently on her stretches, breathing in the deep patterns Samara had shown her. Her mind refused to focus though, it kept drifting back to the memory of Garrus, his visor was laying in her bag, still working and repaired from the damage that had been inflicted upon it during that fight.

Finishing her routine she walked over to her bag and fished it out, putting it on and looking out at the world through its blue tint as it measured the time (5:30) oxygen content, elevation and date according to the citadel calendar, nine hundred and thirty three years since she had been there. "Visor acknowledge" she said quietly and a small light blinked as the voice activation turned on.

"Play video file For Silvia" she commanded quietly and the light blinked twice before a file marked For Silvia was brought up and began to play. She had watched this video so often that she could quote it word for word, but she was feeling lost and alone so she allowed her this small comfort.

The Image of the battle scarred Turian who had stolen her heart in those three years she had known him was smiling, his mandibles flaring out to the side and his blue eyes filled with sadness but also love and determination.

"Silvia, if you are hearing this, then it means that Shepard has finally managed to kill me with one of his insane plans. Though knowing you, you were probably there, if not then I'm sorry I never came back." She sat there as the tears pricked at her eyes "I just want to tell you that I love you Silvia. *sigh* you were my rock in these last few years, you followed me to Omega when we were waiting for Shepard… Hell, Silvia I know that you were worried that I would hate you for not telling me about your secret until we went for the collectors but I want to tell you that it was worth it. Every second we were together was worth it, and if you are listening to this in some other universe hundreds of years from now then know that I will follow you. If I have to threaten the Powers themselves and be reincarnated every time then I will. I will do my damnedest to follow, but don't you dare be afraid to love again you hear me? How else will I get to be with you again? *chuckle* I love you Silvia Elvira Islingr, and I always will. Goodbye until I can find you again. The Turian who is madly in love with you forever, Garrus Vakarian."

She was crying now, tears dripping down her face as she whispered brokenly "I love you too Garrus." The door began to open stealthily and she scrambled to pull the visor off her face and stuff it back into the pack, only just managing to do so as Sera poked her head into the room.

Seeing her awake the elf swore before noticing her tears "What's with the tears?" She demanded "Not sorry to be leaving this piss pot of a city are you?" she demanded looking at Istaril's tear streaked face.

Istaril shook her head wiping away her tears with the heels of her hands, sniffing before she looked at Sera "what do you want?" she asked, her voice sounding tired and a little broken as she addressed the elf who blinked before shuffling her feet.

"Nothin'" she said guiltily and looking away.

Istaril snorted "you're a rotten liar Sera, you were hoping to go through my stuff whilst I was asleep or to prank me for leaving my story unfinished weren't you" she guessed without even peeking into the elf's mind.

"You would deserve it too, leaving us where you did!" Sera said indignantly, realising what she had just admitted she stuck her tongue out at Istaril before stomping out of the room again.

Istaril sighed, her shoulder slumping as she pulled the visor, putting it back on and locking the door with her psionics "Visor begin playlist Silvia and Garrus, play for twenty minutes before alerting me." She commanded, sitting back and letting the songs she had listened to with Garrus wash over her.

* * *

Two hours later she was sitting on Mithronar's back waiting for the others to mount up. Her companions had given up protesting her lack of a bridle and she refused to tell them that she was directing her horse mentally, she could just hear the Monty Pythonesque chants to burn the witch.

They were waiting for the newest member of their merry band Madam Vivien to arrive and everyone was getting antsy, or in Istaril's case bored as she buried her nose in a book. The sound of shod hooves on hard packed ground heralded the arrival and Istaril looked up to see a fine bred chestnut palfrey with tack so well-crafted that she was green with envy.

The woman who sat astride the palfrey had dark skin and was dressed in skin tight white and silver clothes with a silver headdress, very inappropriate for travel in Istaril's opinion. "Ah good you're here lady Vivien, we were just about to depart." Enarel said politely and Istaril swallowed a sigh as Vivien's aristocratic drawl reached her

"Oh that is good I detest waiting, shall we?"

Enarel nodded and gestured to the other members of the party "This is Varric Tethras, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, Sera And Istaril Kehramor" They all greeted her in their own way as they were introduced, Varric smiled, Cassandra bowed slightly, Sera stuck out her tongue and Istaril waved absently, not looking up from her book.

"Charmed I'm sure" Vivien said dryly looking particularly miffed by Istaril's disregard for proper etiquette. The party fell in behind Enarel who lead them with Vivien placing her horse up beside him, speaking to him and causing him to begin cursing very loudly over the mental frequencies. Istaril had to smile and once even chuckled at his very creative suggestions of what Vivien could do with her pointy hat.

Around noon Cassandra brought her bay charger next to Istaril and cleared her throat a little nervously to get her attention. "Hello Cassandra" Istaril greeted with a small smile as the heavily armoured woman shifted awkwardly before she returned the greeting, sort of.

"I was realizing that I don't know much about you, and I was fascinated by your story last night, and well…" she sighed in frustration "I feel as if we have begun on wrong foot and I would like to start again."

Istaril smiled and nodded "I would like that too Cassandra." The seeker smiled and they rode next to each other in comfortable silence for a while before Cassandra reached into her pocket and handed a bundle to Istaril who took it and looked at it.

It was a dyed and prepared skein of green wool that had yet to be spun "for your story tonight" the Seeker explained and Istaril smiled brightly at her "thank you Casandra."

The seeker grunted and looked a little embarrassed "You know I wondered if you will indulge me. You said back in Haven that you had more names than Varric had stories, I was curious."

She left the sentence hanging and Istaril smiled "My full name as of right now is Istaril Silvia Elvira Miranda Cassandra Brianna Elinor Kathleen Helen T'alia Katherine Dianna Lucy Armida Justine Terpsichore Epona Athena Artemis Leonora Wanderwing Islingr Vrangr Kehramor" She recited with a grin, she often changed her name through her different worlds but she always kept them as a way to remember, each name had a set of memories and meaning attached to them but none were her name from her life before.

Cassandra stared at her in shock "Maker's breath what possessed your parents to name you that?" she asked in an awed voice "I thought my name was bad" she admitted but Istaril shook her head

"Those names were given to me or I chose them myself, they each have a memory attached, but Istaril is one of my favorites, it is very apt."

Cassandra looked at her "what does Istaril mean?" she asked hesitantly and Istaril smiled at her "the woman who knows" she said sadly.

Cassandra seemed to be about to open her mouth to ask more when Enarel called from the front "Hey Cassandra Can I talk to for a moment" Cassandra looked a little cross but Istaril smiled.

"Go on, before our fearless leader strangles the good enchanter" she told her and Cassandra snorted in agreement, kicking her horse up to the head of the party.

* * *

They made camp in the bend of a small river that had served them on their journey to Val Royeaux. They dismounted she groomed Mithronar carefully before setting her loose without a hobble or halter, knowing that she would not stray. Mithronar and she had bonded during their ride to Haven, the mare was as intelligent as the horses of the Shin'a'in followed her around like a dog, listening to her words and she had begun training Mithronar to work as a war steed.

The others had given up trying to convince her otherwise and they just sighed as Istaril crooned to her mare in Sindarin before leaving her with the others. Horses cared for they began to set up camp, pitching tents and digging the latrines. Madam Vivien was of almost no help though she acted like she was doing them a favour by gracing them with her presence and she "graciously" helped Varric light the fire, snapping her fingers as the dwarf leaned closer with a tinder box.

When the camp was set and the fire was burning Istaril began to pull of her armour and clothes, storing them in the tent they had insisted she use. "Um Feathers what are you doing?" Varric asked as she walked toward the river in only a black army issue tank top, her spandex knee length shorts and holding a large net bag

"Fishing!" she called before whispering a small enchantment to keep herself warm and walking into the river. She waded until she stood near the middle, the Madam Vivien watching with curiosity and a little disapproval at her state of undress. She stood motionless for nearly ten minutes as she began to carefully lure the fish towards her using her mind.

Several large river trout swam lazily over to her and she carefully inserted her hand into the water, moving slowly whilst still calming the fish. Gently she grabbed four of the larger ones and placed them in the bag she held underwater. Then she waded out to the shore and her audience of one where she gut and filleted her prizes using her switchblade.

Once they were clean she washed them in the river and carried them over to the fire where Varric had prepared a pan and before long the fish were frying, seasoned with her collection of herbs that she kept on her.

The smell of the fresh fish filled the camp and she smiled, pulling on some dry clothes and her sword before leaving to go and feed the horses. They had small portions of grain that she rationed out in collapsible canvass buckets, placing them away from each of the other horses. She stood by and watched as the horses ate and then calling to them in Sindarin she led them to the river before leaving them to wander.

Mithronar walked over to her and nudged Istaril with her nose, Istaril laughed and cuddled with the mare, stroking her forehead and nose _"_ _oh you beauty, do you want to play?"_ she asked and Mithronar nodded, prancing in excitement.

Istaril led her mount to the open space near the road and began to work the mare through various training maneuvers, issuing commands in Sindarin and showing what she wanted mentally, Mithronar wove and reared, kicked, bit and spun on her commands as Istaril went through various sword moves on the ground, teaching the mare to fight with her.

Vivien watched in silence and grudging admiration as she worked Mithronar without any aides and only a few words. "How do you do that?" she asked as Istaril groomed Mithronar again, carefully going over every inch of her dapple coat and removing all the tangles and burs from her tail.

"I have a way with horses and Mithronar is very smart" she answered carefully braiding the tail to protect the hairs

"yes but an intelligent horse can only do so much, If I remember correctly you have only been working with your mount for a few days and yet she is already so well strained." Vivien probed,

Istaril smiled blandly "Then I don't know how I have done it Lady Vivien" she replied in a sugary sweet voice "but it smells like supper is prepared, so shall we?" she gave Mithronar's nose a final stroke and followed the mage back into the camp.

Her nose was correct and the fish was ready, Varric was just serving up the fish with flat pieces of travel bread, Istaril grabbed a large piece and wrapped it in the bread before sitting on a log Cassandra had dragged near the fire. Each of them had a water skin and she washed down her mouthful of fish with a gulp of water, eating with practiced efficiency of someone who had spent a lot of time eating food with her hands. Enarel and Cassandra also ate with practiced ease whilst Varric and Sera fumbled a bit. Vivien picked delicately at the fish, not wrapping it in the bred but using it as a plate.

After the excellent meal everyone save Vivien turned to look at her expectantly, she stood with a sigh and retrieved her spindle from her pack and pulled out the skein of wool Cassandra had given her earlier.

Sitting down she prepared her leader and with several deft movements she began to work, looking up at her eager audience and said with a smile "So where was I?" she asked with a smile

"The Drums" Cassandra said with bated breath

"the drums in Moria" Varric agreed and Sera nodded eagerly.

Vivien sat with a curious expression and Istaril smiled "ah yes. The drums. They pounded in the deep, their sound making the air throb and the floors shake. With that sound came the shrieking and we knew that we had been found" she wove her tail and they were once again enthralled, Varric was trying hard to record her words but he often forgot.

Everyone, even Vivien shivered in horror as she described the Balrog and cried out in horror and denial as she spoke of how Gandalf fell. They listened in awe as she described the forest of Lorien and Galadriel, gasping as she told them of the mirror which made Vivien frown and Sera swear. She ran out of thread as Frodo and Sam left, Boromir died, Merry and Pippin were taken and the remaining four of the fellowship turned their attention to Rohan.

She volunteered first watch and the others nodded in appreciation. She donned her armour, hood and cloak before melting into the shadows outside the camp and opening her senses to her environment. She found a nice perch on a tumble of rocks near the camp and she settled herself halfway up it to prevent a silhouette from being seen before she settled into her meditations, her bow resting in her lap as she watched the stars overhead.

* * *

A/N- Right so before you yell about her being a Deus ex Machina hear me out. The mass effect thing happened in the early years when she was still figuring it out. She is the back up, the Powers-That-Be will sometimes throw nudges her way for her to do certain things to change the outcome ie. save Shepard. She only has the ability to do magic in the ancient language, that is her ability, though her core is comparable to a dragon of her age and if she really tries she might shapeshift, she hasn't done this since the imortal war. This is her only boost. In her second life before Mass effect she went in magic blazing, became seen as a goddess, accidentally froze herself as a statue and had watched as the people who worshipped her began crusades in her name, even sacrificing people at the foot of her statue/ossified body. This was really traumatic and she has been really careful with her magic ever since. Her dreams are going to be my vehicle of explaining her past and her names were really fun to come up with. Still don't know what her name was before though.

Hope you like and please vote.

Cheers! Mystborn!


	7. Blood and Dreams

**Chapter 7- Blood and Dreams**

They rode into Haven during the evening several days later, the town still looked the same though the tent city had grown in their absence and the stable was now supporting a larger herd with Master Dennit presiding over his domain. Istaril looked over the camp with an experienced eye and could see the signs of strain, to many recruits, not enough tents, triple rotating shifts to ensure everyone had a place to stay, larger classes of soldiers due to a shortage of trainers, too many horses for the stable to support.

She frowned, the Inquisition was groaning under its own weight, confined by its surroundings. Mulling over these thoughts she unsaddled and groomed Mithronar, waving away the confused stable hands who tried to do it for her; she had been trained to care for her mount before herself. She finished caring for her mount and put away her tack, before she trudged tiredly into the town, stopping briefly at the tavern of some food before continuing on.

She unlocked her door and slung her pack onto the bed, pulling her hood and face scarf down before she knelt by the hearth and stacked some wood inside it. She quickly glanced around before she turned and stared intensely at the wood **"** **brisinger"** she whispered and the wood burst into flames. Closing her eyes she rocked back on her heels and basked in the warmth, tugging off her gloves as the magically conjured fire began to heat the cabin. She stood and began to remove her pieces of armour, cleaning each piece as she removed it and setting them on top of the weapons rack that Josephine must have had placed in the corner.

She looked around the room once that task was complete and sighed, pulling her pack into her lap and emptying it onto the bed. The clothes need to be aired and several of her things needed to be cleaned or stored where they wouldn't be damaged. This chore finished she wandered outside and across to the quartermaster and walked away triumphantly bearing a cast iron kettle.

Filling her prize from the well she hauled it over to her home and had it heating over the fire in moments, pausing long enough to pour some lukewarm water into a bowl and take a sponge bath, cleaning several days' worth of travel dust and grime from her skin, using the left over water from the bowl to wash her hair once she had removed the various braids. This task finished she changed into a pair of loose cotton trousers and a red tank top and plopped down in the chair by the table/desk.

Clean and unpacked she pulled out her thick clay cup and filled it with hot water left in the kettle and adding a small mesh tea infuser filled with some of her precious green tea. She closed her eyes and inhaled the fragrant steam gratefully, clutching the cup to her chest as she leaned back in her chair, stretching out her legs and groaning in satisfaction as several of her vertebrae popped back into position.

The warmth from the fire began to dry her hair and she sighed sitting forward and beginning to re-braid her hair using a piece of polished copper she usually carried as a chunk the size of her palm as a mirror. Using magic she had flattened it out, making a disk a foot in diameter and highly reflective, she set it on a small wooden stand she had sung from a piece of firewood and it rested against the wall on her desk.

She pulled out a brush, comb and a small flask of oil, rubbing the oil on her hands she worked them through her hair, rubbing it into her scalp and untangling the worst knots before she used the brush and comb to finish the job. Her movements revealed a tattoo at her hair line at the nape of her neck, a small fleur-de-lie done in purple ink that blended in well with her hair and a line of blocky symbols ran around the back of her head from temple to temple, usually her hair and circlet hid it, but now the black ink glimmered in the light of the fire from under her hair like it had the day Jack had done it for her.

She shook out her hair wiping her hands on a rag before she began to redo her braids. Deftly her fingers found the appropriate bundles of hair and began to weave them together, some in intricate patterns and others in the simple three strands, stringing the appropriate collection of trinkets on each braid before tying them off with small hair ties.

Each bead, charm, amulet, feather and scale represented a family member, friend or event she had met or lived through during her travels and were divided by world or even century. One braid in particular often gained attention, a streak of snow white hair that she braided full of clay beads with painted designs, interspersed with charms made of celestial bronze and the feather from a black Pegasus.

She hummed to herself as she worked, her motions familiar and soothing, a constant no matter where she traveled. These rituals complete she sat cross legged by the fire and meditated, letting the events of the week flow over her. This finished she banked the fire, doused the lantern and slid into her bed, eyes drooping from her exhaustion and she fell away into the dark embrace of sleep.

* * *

Solas liked dreaming, that much was obvious to anyone who spoke to him. He would wander the Fade speaking with the spirits and learning all they had to teach him, it reminded him of the days when there was no veil and the world was full of magic. He shoved that thought away, he would fix it later after he had recovered his orb from Corypheus.

A whisp spun through the air to him, twisting and swirling in front of his face, pulses of agitation and fear washed over Solas from the little spirit and he frowned "What is wrong little one?" he asked, concern colouring the air around him. The whisp darted in a circle and made motions for him to follow showering him with more fear and confusion as well as a desire that he help.

Solas followed the whisp through the dreamscape of Haven he had been exploring through to what could only be described as a storm in the Fade. A spinning vortex of energy closed off a section and the air was filled with the sound of a woman screaming. "Why do you resist Half-breed? We will get the codes sooner or later, why suffer for information that we will retrieve? Where is the logic in that?" an smooth and cultured male voice said, his tone filled with false concern

"Ponfo miran" [go to hell] a woman's voice, thick with pain and hoarse from screaming spat back and the male voice tutted

"such language, what would your parents think?" he reprimanded before the woman began to scream again in pain.

Solas pushed against the storm, shoving though it and ignoring the shocks as small bolts of energy hit him trying to prevent him from accessing the scene. After a few minutes of struggling forward towards the scream, he reached the epicentre of the storm. He looked around and saw no sign of the maelstrom that raged around him, only stale air and echoing silence broken by harsh breathing.

He was standing in a dark, metal room with two figures at the back wall, one standing and the other secured to the wall by a pair of manacles. The standing figure was dressed in some kind of armour comprised of a silver breast plate, tight black pants and high black boots that shone with polish. He had black hair slicked back from his face and grey skin with several ridges along his face and neck.

The male sneered and reached down to the prisoner who was obviously a female with gold-brown hair and grabbed her face, jerking it up. Solas gasped, Istaril knelt there clad only in a light grey short tank top that left her abdomen exposed and a pair of short tight pants. The clothes were stained with a green substance and her exposed skin was black and blue from various bruises, her face was bruised and her hair was short, cut around her head in a cap shape, her eyebrows were sharply slanted, giving her a haughty look but what caught his attention was her ears, they were pointed, smaller than a normal elf's but pointed none the less.

Istaril stared impassively at her captor, ignoring her split lip and a cut on her cheek that leaked more of the emerald green liquid which Solas now realized was blood. "My mother would say such a statement was correctly employed in this situation and my father would also approve, he would also remind me to remove you genitalia with a rusty spoon, regardless of the illogic of such a statement." Her voice was level and calm, though it was still as harsh as a ravens.

The male snorted and held up a grey box with several glowing coloured buttons and pressed the green one. Immediately Istaril's body convulsed and spasms jolted down her limbs, causing her unshackled legs to jerk and twitch. Her head was thrown back as she screamed, revealing a pair of circular metal devises on her temples. "I would recommend you refrain from such disrespect in the future" he told her in a mild tone as he released the button and she collapsed, breathing heavily.

Istaril looked up at him and spat a mouthful of green blood on the floor, her blue eyes watching him coolly. "I will not break, you are wasting your time Cardassian. Either kill me or return me to Federation space" she told him, blood leaking from her nose in a thin trickle, staining her already dirty clothes further.

The male, the Cardassian smirked nastily "Oh I don't think so, you see I have a few trainees who have yet to receive a lecture on the proper way to interrogate a Vulcan without killing the subject. I think you will make an excellent volunteer. Your Human genetics will of course effect you treatment, but I'm sure we can work around it" he said in a deceptively polite manner, leaving the room through a door that opened without him touching it.

Once he had left Istaril bowed her head, pulling her knees under her body and breathing deeply "The mind controls the body; control the mind and the body will follow" she murmured her breath hitching as she whispered "please let me get through this" before she regained control and returned to her steady breathing as she waited.

The door swished open again and the Cardassian returned, followed by several others "Now then Lieutenant Laroche we shall see if your famous Vulcan discipline can withstand what is to come" he said with a smirk before pulling out a slim blade.

Solas watched this scene on horror, he tried multiple times to wake Istaril up, but his powers did not effect this nightmare, nor did it allow him to leave. So he was trapped in this small black room and watched as the Cardassian and a few of his "students" inflicted torture that he never wanted to imagine or even wish upon his worst enemy.

Istaril screamed as they tortured her, he was sure the sound would stay with him for years as she writhed and bled, her skin, the floor and walls were smeared with green blood and her tormentor was covered in it as well. Her voice faltered as her cries tore at her vocal folds, damaging them till she could make no sound, leaving her to sob and cry silently through the pain.

He fell to his knees as he watched, sometimes calling out to her in an effort to comfort her or wake her, but she never responded.

Eventually the scene dissolved and Solas found himself thrown back into the waking world. He stumbled from his bed and vomited violently into his chamber pot, heaving as his stomach tried to force itself up through his esophagus.

When he was finished he curled up on his side trembling at the visions he had seen, even at the height of his rebellion he had never seen such systematic cruelty, all throughout the nightmare the torturer had lectured, his voice as cool and calm as if he were in a lecture hall, not in a cell covered in blood. There was a knock at the door and he uncurled his limbs stiffly wiping his mouth with a damp rag and taking a swig from the pitcher of water on his table.

"Coming, just a moment" he called, changing from his sleep wear into his accustomed tunic and leggings. He pulled open the door to see the face of the Herald and he forced a smile "Herald, what can I do for you?" he asked and the herald looked at him in concern

"are you alright Solas?" he asked. Solas swallowed the urge to flinch "yes, I am perfectly fine Herald. Why do you ask?" he said politely. "Your paler than usual, that's all" the Herald answered and Solas waved his hand as if to banish the silly notion of him being unwell.

"It is nothing Herald, now what did you wish to speak about?" he enquired, hoping to divert attention away from himself.

The Herald looked at him disbelievingly but seamed to shrug mentally and return to the reason for his visit "I am heading out to the Storm coast and was wondering if you would accompany me, Sera and Varric" he told Solas, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"That is an unusual party composition, all of us are ranged fighters" Solas said with curiosity.

Enarel's shoulders slumped "it's because Cassandra and Leliana want to intero…I mean get to know Istaril. I have to head out to meet with a mercenary company called Bull's Chargers and I want to have a full team, so could you please come?" he asked.

Solas cocked his head to the side and was about to answer when the door to the cabin next door opened and Istaril stepped out. She was dressed not in her usual armour and pants full of pockets, but rather in a cobalt blue loose sleeved shirt decorated with green and red floral patterns, a green vest with similar embroidery matched the shirt and both sat over a pair of wide crimson trousers covered in gold embroidery which were tucked into her boots. A pair of leather bracers and a multi-coloured sash with three daggers tucked away in its folds and her sword swinging from her hip completed the colourful outfit.

Solas stared at her openly as she closed the door and looked in his direction, she smiled as she spotted the two elves and she called out a greeting to them as she walked over. "Good morning Enarel, Solas. Did you have a good night sleep?" she asked looking at them curiously and Enarel nodded whilst Solas continued to stare at her, frozen as he saw her tortured face superimposed over her normal one.

"Solas? Earth to Solas" Istaril called, breaking the image, Solas blinked and shook his head uncertainly.

"Did that actually happen?" he asked her softly, Istaril frowned and looked at him questioningly.

"Did what happen Solas?" she asked, looking a little unnerved "The Cardassian interrogating you?" he asked, fearful of the answer.

The blood drained from Istaril's face and she looked at him in shock and a small amount of fear. "How do you know that word?" she demanded in a whisper.

"I saw it last night, I tried to wake you but I could not. Now answer my question. Did. That. Happen?" he demanded, anger colouring his words.

Istaril stared at him for a moment before she gave the tiniest of nods before pushing past him and the confused Enarel.

"What was that?" the Herald asked, looking from Istaril's retreating form back to Solas. "A dream, and Yes Inquisitor I will join you on this mission. Allow me to gather my things, I assume this will take several days?" he said, drawing Enarel's attention back to the reason for his visit.

"What? Oh, yes four days there and four back. Bring rain gear. We head out in half an hour, we'll have breakfast on the road." Enarel told him. Solas nodded and the Herald looked at him uncertainly before turning and leaving. Solas walked back inside his cabin and sank onto his bed. Just who was Istaril Kehramor?

* * *

Istaril walked into the tavern with a forcefully unhurried gate. She felt like someone had punched her in the gut, how had Solas known? She wondered a little desperately, but the answer came right after that thought; her dreams. She had dreamed of her capture and torture during the Dominion war and Solas was a dream walker. He had found her in the Fade.

She shuddered as she took her breakfast and tea, placing a handful of copper coins on the counter in payment. If Solas could wander in and out of her dreams then he would learn a hell of a lot more then she was ever prepared to show.

Sitting in her corner she stared at her hands watching as the veins beneath her skin pulsed gently in time with her heartbeat, their healthy green hue indicative to one of her differences. Many wouldn't see the slight green undertones in her skin, mostly because she didn't want them to, but also because they didn't think to look.

She had entered the star trek universe at around her twelfth jump and had been in for one hell of a shock. After her first jump as a dragon she had returned to being human, well humanoid at any rate, her draconic instincts, senses and reflexes were hardwired into her brain and her magic had traveled with her.

She had hopped around a bit always appearing around the age of twenty and then BAM she was a three year old child. Not only that but she had been a half-Vulcan three year old who didn't exist according to all birth records or DNA scans. Her gear had been taken by the Powers and put in stasis until she turned eighteen and she had grown up T'alia Laroche the adopted daughter of another human/Vulcan couple Damian and T'prel Laroche.

Skip forward several years and she was a member of Starfleet and serving on the Enterprise, then DS9 and then the Voyager; adventuring, wandering around, getting in Q's way and in general saving lives.

When she had passed from that world at the young age of one hundred and sixty from being spaced, she had been informed by the Powers that her Vulcan blood was far more efficient than iron based human blood so she was going to keep it, no ifs ands or buts.

Ever since she had used a combination of misdirection and illusions through producing a psionic field to make everyone see her as physically human.

There was the sound of a chair being pulled back and she was jerked out of her thoughts by Leliana's voice. "I'm not sure what your hand did, but I'm sure it's very sorry about it" the bards voice was filled with light amusement and Istaril dragged her mind back to the present and plastered a smile on her face.

"I'm sure it is contrite Lady Nightingale, I just wanted to be sure that it realised the seriousness of its actions" she joked back, pulling her bowl closer and beginning to eat the now cool porridge.

"Indeed, I was hoping to talk with you today as the Herald is away on a mission. I was wondering if you could show Cassandra, Josephine and Myself your skills so we will know what we can expect from you. Also we were thinking of getting you some proper armour to complete the set you have right now" the bard told her politely.

Istaril nodded, speaking after she swallowed "I see no reason why not, I assume this is because I left almost immediately after I arrived to follow Enarel, though in terms of the armour don't worry, I have the entire set." She replied, sipping her cold tea.

Leliana smiled and stood "Wonderful, come to my tent after your finished your meal, bring your weapons and we will head down to the training area to meet Cassandra." She instructed Istaril, sweeping from the tavern with the same catlike grace. Istaril looked after the spymaster and smirked, she was going to enjoy this.

She finished her food and left the tavern, stopping by her cabin and dressing herself in her armour including changing her clothes to a long sleeve shirt and cargo pants, sliding each weapon into its place before striding outside and up past the chantry, holding her breath as she passed the door. Leliana looked up as Istaril approached, no doubt hearing her not so stealthy boots crunch on the snow.

"Let's see what you can do then" the bard relied signaling Josephine to follow them to the training filed. Cassandra was hacking at several rather unfortunate dummies who were looking the worse for wear, attacking them with violent focus. She straightened from her ready stance when she saw them coming, sheathing her sword and stalking over to them.

"Ahh you all here, shall she see what you can do?" she asked, cutting right to the chase.

Istaril nodded "what would you like to see first?" she asked tugging off her cloak and ignoring the chilly wind that had sprung up.

"You carry several knives" Leliana remarked "let's see if you can use them." The ex-Bard drew two long daggers and twirled them expertly in her hands before flowing to the middle of flat spot by the dummies.

Istaril removed her bow and arrows and placed them against a nearby tent. Her sword and shield joined them and she pulled her Quarian dagger from her calf and her kukuri from her thigh, crouching low and relaxing into her stance, closing off her mind so as not to cheat "begin" Josephine told them.

Leliana leapt forward and made three quick slashes before leaping back. Istaril watched her carefully after dodging the blows, twisting her body out of the way, then she and the bard began to circle each other. This activity was seen and many of the off duty soldiers came over to watch. Vaguely Istaril heard gold changing hands, but she blocked out the stimulus focusing on the task at hand.

Leliana watched her intently now wary and jumped back as the dagger cut through the air near her throar. The two woman danced around each other, their blades occasionally meeting in a deadly blur of steel, but the fight was not restricted to knives. They kicked and punched, blocked and grappled. This mistake on Leliana's part had caused her left hand to become shredded due to her attempt to grab hold of Istaril's pauldron, the leather gloves she wore offered no protection from the razor sharp feathers.

Istaril leaned back sharply to avoid the dagger slashing past her face, back flipping out of reach and kicking Leliana in the face as she left. She landed lightly on her feet and in the space of a blink and sheathed her knives and was now firing her throwing knives at her. Leliana avoided three but miscalculated, and recived a scratch along her cheek and a shredded hood for her troubles.

"Enough" Cassandra called, and like that the spell was broken, Istaril hurried over to Leliana and examined her hand, checking for splinters of feather, not that she expected any.

"You fight well" she told the bard "you remind me of a friend of mine who taught me to knife fight, a good man George, always resourceful." She looked at the spymaster with a sly grin "So can I knife fight?" she asked and Leliana rolled her eyes.

"Yes, you are very skilled, we should spar again sometime, and I enjoyed the challenge." Istaril nodded and began to retrieve her knives, ignoring the grumbles of the loosing bettors and the cheers of the optimists.

"Let's see how you shoot" Cassandra said pointing at a row of four targets a hundred meters away from them.

"The starting line is over there" she pointed but Istaril shook her head "I can get those from here." She informed her judges, picking up her bow and quiver, slinging the latter over her shoulder and tugging on her string a few times. For a moment she sat perfectly still, just breathing as she calmed down her heat rate.

Then in a flash she drew and fired three arrows one after the other, taking a second to pause before she fired of five more almost faster than the eye could blink. A soldier ran down to the four targets and exclaimed in amazement "the arrows are clustered so tightly she shaved the fletching off of the first four!" he cried and Leliana walked over to look, her left hand now wrapped in a bandage. The spy master stared at the arrows for a few moments before speaking to the soldier next to her.

The man walked to the targets and tried to pull out the arrows, but without success. Istaril smiled and ran her fingers lovingly over the bow she had sung from a tree on Pern. It had taken a while to get the curves and grain just right so they added extra power, but it was worth it.

She stashed her bow and pulled out her sword and shield, settling the rampant dragon on her left arm. "What does your shield design represent?" Cassandra asked as she brought out her own sword and shield.

"It's my own personal device. My sister had a lion on hers and she was called the Lioness, me, I was the Dragoness. She was the kings champion when I left." She replied with a grin before they recived the order to begin. Neither woman held back, they went at it hammer and tongs, sparks flying from where their blades clashed and bruises forming along their shield arms and ribs.

Istaril had a feral grin on her face and she smashed the pommel of her sword down on Cassandras shield, leaning in to deliver a head-butt, her circlet digging in painfully for both of them. Cassandra staggered back clutching her forehead, while Istaril shook hers to clear the stars. Both woman charged again and Cassandra managed to deliver a blow to Istaril's face with her shield. Istaril staggered back clutching her nose, and felt a warm liquid trickle from the abused cartilage.

She focused hard on her psionic field and ensured that everyone saw what they expected, a trickle of red blood which she whipped away quickly. She did not see Leliana frown at the sight. Soon after Istaril got lucky and her sword slithered around Cassandras in a clashing ring of metal on metal. With a quick twist Cassandra's sword went flying from her hand and the Seeker looked at Istaril with the light of respect shining in her eyes.

Istaril grinned at her and whipped her bleeding nose with a black handkerchief she kept in a pocket, pinching the bridge of her nose to stop the bleeding. Cassandra looked at her bloody nose with some confusion before shaking her head and walking forward and clapping her hand on Istaril's shoulder. "Well done, that was one of the best fights I've had in a long time. I must ask who your teacher was?" she asked and Istaril shrugged

"I picked up styles from my travels, I've had so many teachers that I've lost count. Though nothing can really beat pain and hard work as a teacher" she replied and Cassandra looked a little downcast, but brightened considerably at her last words, nodding in agreement.

The pair of them smiled and clasped forearms before Istaril walked over to retrieve her things, stowing them on her person with practiced ease. "Anything else?" she asked at the gobsmacked Josephine and the frowning Leliana. Both shook their heads "no, you can go" Josephine told her and Istaril grinned, bowing slightly to the three of them and striding over to the stables to work with Mithronar.

* * *

Leliana watched her go and turned back to her companions "well she is skilled with her weapons, I'll give you that. Not to mention full of surprises" she admitted, looking at her damaged hand, she would have to see a mage about healing it later.

Josephine nodded enthusiastically "yes, and what she said about her sister being a kings champion, and with having a personal devise on her shield, that means that she was a knight at some point" she said excitedly and Cassandra frowned

"but she left. Why?" the Seeker asked and Leliana nodded.

"Did you see something odd about her when you hit her nose Cassandra?" she asked and the Seeker shrugged looking confused.

"I though her blood looked a bit odd, almost green. But it must have been the light from the breach, everything seems green here." She replied turning to glare at the offending rip in reality. Leliana nodded still not convinced as she turned the though over in her mind. She had though that Istaril looked a little green sometimes but she had put it down to the light from the breach, Cassandra was right, everything did look green.

She turned and watched as Istaril began working with her horse, using no halter, bridle saddle or lunge line; the sight increased her from as she watched, the horse had been perfectly normal when she had arrived, now the gentle mare was being trained as a war steed faster than she would have believed possible. Leliana scowled as she walked back to her tent, she hated mysteries.

* * *

A/N- I'm unsure what to think of what my fingers created. I like the idea of her struggling to hide her blood colour from the world and I love the idea of Solas wandering into her nightmares and finding he has no power there. Now here is what my brain spawned: The Powers that be want their agent to be as efficient as possible, hence the allowing her to keep her magic, dragoness and the copper blood base has a higher conductivity than iron, leading to more efficient oxygen absorption and faster muscle speeds. The field she weaves around her is quite simple, People expect her to bleed red, so she makes them see what they expect. This should also be noted that she can't actually lie or be lied to, the griffon feathers in her hair prevent that, also she can see through illusions. Her field is a trick, and can be seen through if the person really focuses or doesn't expect the blood to be can't do this all the time and she can't do it with larger things, colour is a small thing so its easy to hide but if she were to spit blood on the ground it would look red until about five inches from her body, then it would revert to green. I'm keeping it, if you don't like you don't need to tell me, as this is my insane ramblings, not yours.

Cheers! and a Happy New Year! Mystborn


	8. Stories and Swords

**Chapter 8- Stories and swords**

Istaril stood on her accustomed spot on the wall the day after the Herald had left and watched the sunrise like she did every morning, a presence walked up beside her but she ignored it keeping her eyes fixed on the steadily growing light that adorned the east. As the sun rose she closed her eyes and basked in the light, feeling the well wishes from Mithros, Apollo, Ra and the other sun gods. Feelings of comfort from her family and friends long dead surrounded her as their greetings were conveyed to her through the sun's rays and she breathed in deeply before bowing to the sun and murmuring a prayer of thanks.

The presence next to her shifted uncomfortably as she finished and turned away from the sun and looked at her. A woman with dark skin and clad in the robes of a Chantry mother looked at her with curiosity "to whom do you prey my child?" she asked gently and Istaril cocked her head to the side, formulating her words with care.

"I thanked the ones whom I have left behind for their love and support." She replied finally and held out her hand "Mother Giselle I assume" she said, and smiled. Mother Giselle returned the smile warmly, hiding the uncertainty that Istaril felt swirling just below the surface and reached out to shake Istaril's hand.

"Yes, I am Mother Giselle, and I you are Istaril Kehramor are you not?"

Istaril nodded and looked back to the sun, smiling as the slight heat touched her face. "Is there something you wished to ask of me Mother?" she asked turning away and motioning to the Mother to walk with her back down to the village. Mother Giselle walked alongside her, her hands tucked into her wide sleeves and her eyes watching the path before her.

"I have wondered why I do not see you more in the Chantry, you appear to be very devout in your worship of the Maker" She said carefully, her mind dwelling on Istaril murmured prayer.

Istaril laughed gently "Oh I am far from a devout follower of your Maker, until I arrived here I had never even heard your Chant of Light. As for my not stepping in your Chantry, I find the incense too strong and it hurts my nose."

Mother Giselle looked at her carefully "I see, many find the scent of the Chantry comforting" she said and Istaril nodded

"but even the most comforting scents can become smothering." she returned.

Mother Giselle was silent for a moment before she braved the true question she wanted to asked "So you do not believe in the Maker?" she asked politely and Istaril shrugged.

"When you live as I have Mother Giselle, you learn that you know very little. I have met mortals that claim to be gods, and I have gods that claim to mortals. All I know is that I live and one day when my journey is finished, I will die. Until then I will continue on the path I was placed on" she said after a few moments of consideration.

They approached the Tavern and Mother Giselle took her leave. Alone now Istaril walked in and settled in her corner with her food. She ate quickly whilst planning what to do for the time she was not needed. A chair moved and Cassandra settled across from her, setting her bowl down as she regarded Istaril with intelligent dark eyes. "What are you thinking about?" she asked curiously and Istaril looked up at her.

"I was wondering what I'll do with myself when I'm not running around after Enarel" she admitted her lips quirking up in a smile.

"What do you usually do?" Cassandra asked and Istaril shrugged

"dunno, just walk and find trouble I guess. That or train" she leaned back and rubbed her temples "I don't think Cullen would appreciate me helping though, who knows what I may teach the men" she joked, looking up to see a calculating look in Cassandra's eyes.

The Seeker stared at her then seemed to make a decision "you are an excellent fighter Istaril. Our spar yesterday was very educational for me." She paused, looking down at her food "would you like to train with me today? I feel that we could learn much from each other" she offered and Istaril smiled

"sure, that would be fun."

* * *

Enarel and his party rode into Haven eight days later laden down with exhaustion. Next to them strode The Iron Bull and the chargers were behind them.

They passed by the training grounds to see a very unusual sight, that of Istaril and Cassandra balancing on a narrow beam three inches above the ground and duelling with only their swords. Both women had a look of intense concentration on their faces and weren't wearing their armour. Bull whistled as they pounded on each other, neither willing to give ground "now that's impressive" he rumbled watching as Istaril bent backwards to avoid Cassandras strike.

"The dark haired ones Cassandra and the one with the feathers is Istaril" Varric told him from atop his pony.

"Hmm Cassandra has reach but Istaril has flexibility" the Bull noted "see how Cassandra takes the blows, she is a strength fighter. Istaril dodges them, pretty impressive seeing as they have no ground to work with."

Enarel nodded at bulls assessment "I don't think I've seen Cassandra fight without her shield" he said leaning on his saddle pommel. They rode past and Enarel shouted a greeting to them "Cassandra! Istaril!" the two fighters paused and looked over to him, they both waved at him before turning back to their fight.

"It seems that those two have found some common ground" Solas commented as the handed off their mounts to the stable hands and walked over to stand next to the fight. The two warriors noticed their audience and sheathed their swords, stepping off the balance beam, Cassandra's face was flushed from the exercise and Istaril looked rather green and was panting, but the others save Solas wrote that off as the light from the breach.

"What are you two up to?" Enarel asked them and Istaril grinned whilst Cassandra glared at her sparring partner

"Training" Istaril said brightly still a little short of breath,

Cassandra snorted "you may call it training but to me it is torture, how on earth did you come up with that exercise" the seeker complained, but it had an air of friendly banter to it.

"I learned from a pirate" Istaril replied with a cheeky grin and Cassandra rolled her eyes muttering "of course you did."

Enarel looked between the two of them with an amused smile "I leave you alone for eight days and now your friends What happened?" he asked and Istaril shrugged

"got bored and decided to start beating each other with sharp lengths of tempered steel" she answered before her eyes fell on The Iron Bull. "But who is this?" she asked, looking him over with a glint of laughter in her eyes.

"This is The Iron Bull, he's going to joining us on missions, Iron bull this Seeker Cassandra Pentagahst and Istaril Kehramor" Enarel introduced, gesturing to each of them.

The Bull grinned and winked his one eye at Istaril "Pleased to meet you, though it's just the Bull for you" he purred smoothly reaching out his hand to Istaril.

She took it with a laugh "well then Bull, pleased to meet you, call me Istaril" she answered and smirked a little at the huge Qunari.

The Bull began to laugh heartily "oh I like you" he chortled before leaning in and whispering something to her. Istaril laughed at whatever he had said and shook her head

"maybe some other time dear" she told him and winked, patting him on the cheek.

Enarel shifted uncomfortably at watching this and Cassandra looked scandalized. Istaril smiled at this and looked to Varric "wanna play some cards later Varric? I have a few games I could teach you" she invited and looked at the others "You guys can come too if you want" she offered and there were some pensive faces before several of them nodded, even Cassandra agreed and they retired to the Tavern for food and drinks.

* * *

Solas watched as Istaril shuffled the battered deck of cards, the edges were frayed and stained from age she flicked the cards around in several patterns that earned her a few claps before she began describing a game called Skyllian five. Solas wasn't playing but he still sat at the table sipping his tea and focused on her.

He had spent the nights he was away puzzling over the dream he had wandered into before he had left, the fact that he had been powerless in her dream had disturbed him. The Fade had always been his realm, the place where he was strongest but he might as well have been mundane for all he was able to effect. He had spent the nights searching the Fade for answers, but none of the spirits knew who or what she was. A spirit of wisdom had only said that she was a traveler, but had known nothing else. He had also scoured the fade trying to find her dreams again, but to no avail.

Tonight he felt he would see if he could try again now that he would be sleeping in close proximity to her. Looking at her now he wondered how he had missed her green tinged skin, after seeing her dream it had become obvious to him, green blood would make her colouration seem greener, but no one had noticed or if they did they put it off to the light of the breach. He frowned and listened as she explained the rules of the game, her blue eyes dancing with mirth. Tonight he would find her dreams again, he would not fail.

* * *

Istaril sat in her study on Tsahnahn writing in her journal. She had heard Solas's thoughts during the game and had linked away from Thedas after dinner and locking herself in her cabin to prevent this from happening. It was eleven thirty in both worlds and she paused in her motions, looking out the window at the gentle rain that was falling against the window pane, sighing she stood and retired to bed after setting her alarm for two hours before dawn.

"Permission Granted Zoe" said a voice she knew very well.

"No" she screamed and flung herself forward, pushing Annabeth out of the way and lunging at the Manticore, slicing his chest only to be grabbed and dragged of the cliff.

"Miranda!" Percy, Talia and Annabeth cried as she fell, a swirl of dark and then nothing. The dream shifted and she was covered in bronze chains and being shoved hard, she fell at someone's feet, just as she tried to stand she felt something immeasurably heavy being lowered onto her shoulders.

Instinctually she pushed herself up to her knees and braced herself. The scene resolved and she was kneeling under the sky. The chains bit painfully into her wrists and sharp stone stabbed into her knees. She cried out in pain as she struggled under the sky even her draconic and Vulcan strength faltered at the sheer weight of it.

"Well, well awake are we? That is good" she turned her head and saw a blond demigod with a scar on his face.

"Luke" she growled her eyes shifting to their vertical pupils in rage.

"I was hoping to put Annabeth here but I guess you will suffice as bait for Artemis." He admitted crouching to her level. "You never trusted me did you Miranda" he mused "I was the one who introduced you to your heritage, like Percy. Yet he trusted me and you didn't. Why is that?" he asked finally looking at her face and noticing her eyes.

"What's this? Been hiding something have you. Perhaps your friends will not be as loyal if they were to see you now. I wonder…" he trailed off and grabbed her face roughly before taking out his dagger and dragging it down her face, from her right temple across under her nose to the left side of her chin.

Green blood poured from the cut, covering the lower half of her face. Luke stared at her, then smirked "oh this should be interesting, I wonder if the Goddess will even try to save you. Monster" he laughed as he wiped his dagger on her t-shirt and strode away, his chuckles echoing across the barren mountain peak.

Hours or day passed, she didn't know. She was focusing all her strength on holding the sky, she had none to spare to heal the cut. She knew it was deep and that it would scar but she couldn't muster the focus to care about it. Shuffling was heard and she opened her eyes, still with their vertical pupils as she channeled her inner dragon for strength. The goddess Artemis was standing twelve feet from her bound in celestial bronze chains and being held by a pair of Cyclopes.

"See that maiden Lady Artemis, in pain, all you need to do is take the sky from her" The voice of Atlas told the goddess who was obviously fighting her instincts to do just that.

Miranda laughed, well more like gave a sharp exhale "don't listen…. to them… Lady Hunter, I …am no virgin… despite what your... senses tell …you. I will …ahhh…endure, do not …trap yourself… here." She gasped out, the caked blood on her face flaking off as she moved her face for the first time in a while.

The goddess still seemed to struggle until the Cyclopes dragged Artemis next to Miranda and chained the goddess to the stone like they had her. "You will break soon goddess, and then you will be trapped here in this creature's place." The titan rumbled before striding away.

Artemis looked at Miranda in curiosity "who are you?" she demanded noticing the dried green blood that still decorated her face and the angry green inflammation that surrounded the cut.

"Mir… ran… da… Wan…der…wing… daughter… uhh… of none…" she panted out, closing her eyes again as she struggled to hold.

"Let me take the sky, you are only mortal, you cannot hold it much longer." Artemis pleaded trying to take the sky from her forcibly.

Miranda shook her head and shoulder checked the goddess away. "Am... no… mere mortal… can… hold… pres...serve your ugh.. strength… for ba…tle" she commanded opening her eyes and looking at the goddess.

Artemis gaped at her actions and shook her head "I cannot let you do this" she said in a forceful voice but Miranda shook her head, pushing the goddess away again.

"Just… talk… to… me… it …will...pass…the…time…" she asked, ignoring the goddess and focusing on the burning pain in her arms. It took time but the goddess finally gave in and told her stories of the Hunt, always pleading to take the sky, only to be refused.

When the cavalry finally arrived she barely heard it, only realising it was time when Artemis vanished from her side and a girl with volcanic eyes was at her side, speaking with her franticly. Atlas went flying towards her and she dropped, throwing her body to the side and feeling someone drag her further away. She lay where she had been placed, unable to do more than lie there as her senses were overloaded with searing pain.

She felt hands pick her up and she turned her head to see Artemis holding her "you still live, but not for long if we don't get you to Olympus."

Miranda merely blinked "Don't sleep Miranda!" Percy pleaded with her, Annabeth, Talia and even Zoe Nightshade who had not died pleaded with her to stay awake as Artemis spurred her chariot across the sky as fast as it would go.

"I can see the stars" she murmured in wonder as the wind whipped her now snow white hair across her face and felt her eyes close.

* * *

Istaril's eyes opened at the sound of her alarm and she sat up, touching the sphere to stop its alert she shook her head and stood, dressing and returning to Thedas her dream still on her mind. As she moved through her stretches she mulled over the memory, she hadn't died that night but it had been close, Artemis had lunged into Olympus only moments later and Apollo had managed to save her.

Though there was little he could do in terms of her facial scar of her hair. He had tried and managed to remove most of the white except for a streak that she braided with her camp beads and a few others that littered her hair, barely noticeable.

She had been killed during the final battle for Olympus holding Cronus off while Percy contacted Poseidon. She shivered as she remembered the feeling of backbiter sliding through her abdomen, the metal had burned and froze her simultaneously and the pain as it ripped through her back had been excruciating.

"You have failed" he had whispered to her and she had just grinned, spitting blood into his eyes before she had grabbed the hilt of his sword in both hands and held on for all she was worth "No you have" was all she said as she died.

She had been given the funeral of a hero and she had woken up in an empty world dressed in her armour, complete with her silver helmet that was a gift from Artemis, her pack by her side, her hair freshly washed and braided with new charms on her white braid and covered in a shroud smelling strongly of smoke.

The shroud was a beautiful affair of silver silk embroidered with a crescent moon and scenes of her adventures with Percy and Annabeth, she still had it, hanging on a wall on Tsahvahn. On the anniversary of her death she would hold it to remember her friend from camp and the bravery of those in that battle.

* * *

Enarel walked around the corner of the wall and spotted his quarry, Istaril was sitting on a crate near the edge of the tent city whittling something with a small dagger and whistling to herself. He paused for a moment to observe her, she had changed from the rather ragged traveler they had met in the Hinterlands. Her clothes were cleaner and she didn't wear her armour all the time, though she never went anywhere without her sword. Currently she was wearing a white shirt tucked into a pair of brown breeches her hair floated around her, feathers twirling in an errant breeze, from this angle some of them looked white, blending in with the gold and brown seamlessly.

He walked over to her and watched her work for a little while. She noticed him after a few moments and she smiled, putting down her carving "Enarel, how are you?" she asked, brushing shavings from her lap.

"I was wondering if you had some time to talk" he replied sitting down on another crate.

"Sure what do you want to talk about?" she told him, picking up her carving once more and watching him out of the corner of her eye as she shaved off small slivers of wood from the piece in her hand.

"I was hoping to get to know more about you" he said, watching her hands work steadily her hands stilled and she looked at him with a curious expression.

"Alright, ask away" she invited,

Enarel smiled and settled himself comfortably "well, where are you from?" he asked her and she cocked her head to the side and frowned a little as if choosing her words carefully

"I don't really know anymore" she admitted returning her focus to her carving "I've had so many homes and families that it gets a little hazy the further back I go" she paused and took a breath before continuing "I think I was from the country of Canada, but beyond that I don't really remember, I could just as easily say I'm from Alagaesia, Vulcan, Tortall, Narnia, Arda, Reach, Tarsonis, Australia, England, D'ni and so many more. I go where the wind takes me and try to remember where I've been." She had put the carving down and was fingering one of the braids in her hair, her eyes far away.

"Is that what your braids are for?" Enarel asked, watching her and she nodded idly tugging one of them forward, there were over twenty beads packed tightly along the braid

"these are my for my Family from the Normandy." She said quietly running her fingers over them "Wrex, Joker, Edi, Liara, Thane, Samara, Miranda, Jacob, Legion, Kasumi, Ashely, Kaiden, Grunt, Zaeed, Javik Mordin, Shepard, Tali and Garrus." She recited, saying each name as she touched a certain bead.

Enarel looked at her and asked his question "where are they now?" he asked quietly and she seemed to wake from her thoughts

"Gone now, they passed a long time ago" she replied, dropping her hand back into her lap.

Enarel looked at her face, it was filled with saddened acceptance and he took a leap of faith leaning over and putting a hand on her shoulder in comfort and she smiled "thank you, don't worry it was a long time ago. I've moved past it since then" she reassured him and he nodded looking at how many braids and charms were in her hair and wondering at the sheer number of them. "Enough of that" she said, sitting straighter "I'm sure you didn't come here to listen to my mopping"

Enarel looked at her and smiled "No but I'm still glad you decided to tell me. Can you tell me a story about them?" he asked and was happy to see her smile in return

"oh I think I have one for you, It's about one of my sisters, we pretended to be boys for eight years so we could become knights." She replied and he listened with amazement as she told her story.

* * *

Solas stood near the gate and watched as the Herald spoke with Istaril. Her face was animated and she gestured emphatically as she described something. Lavellan was watching her with a smile on his face and laughing at some parts of her story.

Solas had searched through the fade but found nothing of her or her dreams and had woken frustrated and uncertain.

It stuck the ancient elf in that moment watching her face that Istaril was beautiful, not in the classic sense like Leliana or several of the other woman he had met, but more in the strength that sat just under her skin and the exotic tilt of her face.

He shook his head, he couldn't allow his mind to be distracted by this human woman, not when he had to focus on the task of retrieving his orb. Resolutely he turned away from the sight and walked back to his cabin.

* * *

A/N- So here is the next installment. I'm still in the fence about the romance although a lot of you want Solas... eh we'll see. So know we have an idea of what role she played during the titan war... what do you think? I have a feeling that Istaril would get along famously with Artemis, mostly because as a dragon she is a predator, a hunter in all the ways that count. Artemis is the goddess of the hunt. that's my logic. She also has a helmet that will stat seeing some action, if you think she falls into memories to easily consider this: She is very, very old and the older you get the more memories you have to sift through as a result everything she sees has the potential to set her off in cases of deja vu and flash backs. Not to mention she probably has some PTSD issues, sure she has seen councillors and she has techniques for coping but that doesn't stop her from having them, it just reduces the frequency.

As always hope you enjoy

Cheers! Mystborn!


	9. Song and Moon

**Chapter 9- Song and Moon**

Enarel rubbed his temples in an effort to stave off the headache he could feel lurking behind his eyes. He had been in the war room for most of the day listening to the others bicker and argue about which faction to approach. Cullen and Cassandra were firmly in support of the Templars while Leliana and Josephine were stanchly in the mages favour.

"Enough" he told the warring advisors "We need to take a break, all you're doing is arguing in circles" he told them with a frown. They looked at him a little startled as if they had forgotten he was there.

"Yes, that is an excellent idea" Josephine agreed and the others nodded, opening the door to the rest of the Chantry and filing out. Enarel left last, closing the door behind him and wandering out into the snowy streets. It was late afternoon and the sky was a clear blue despite the snowflakes that hovered in the air and the chilling nip that touched at his ears. He pulled up his hood and walked down toward the gate, hoping to get away from all the people for a while.

Out beyond the walls and the perimeter of the camp he paused, closing his eyes and breathing in the chill air deeply. It was so still here and he smiled, enjoying it, then his sensitive ears detected the faint sound of a harp and a woman's voice singing a strange song that seemed to evoke an ethereal quality to the mountains around him.

 _"_ _A Elbereth, Glithoniel,_ _Men echenim sí derthiel. Ne chaered hen nu 'aladhath, Ngilith or annún-aearath."_ The voice keened low and mysterious, the sounds of the harp twining with her voice like mist across the sea. He turned and followed the sound to a small grove of pine trees near the bank of the frozen river and he quietly pushed the heavy bows out of his way.

He stepped from the trees into the middle of the grove into a space over shadowed by the pine branches to form a pocket among the trunks. There was no snow here and the ground was cushioned with thick moss. The air was warm and filled with the smell of pine needles and curled up in the crook of several larger roots, sat Istaril.

Her eyes were closed as she sang and she was curled up in her silvery grey hood and cloak, a small lap harp in her hands as she plucked a haunting melody from the strings. The pattern of the light sifting down through the trees dance around her as if in time to her tune and, the branches curled protectively around her and the very air itself felt filled with a feeling of a strange wild power and peace.

Her hair had auburn highlights that gleamed softly and her skin seemed to give off a faint silver glow in the dim light, as he approached her eyes opened, and she looked at him with a happy expression "Enarel" she greeted him quietly, as if to avoid shattering the peace of the space. Enarel smiled at her use of his first name, everyone else just called him Herald or Lavellan, but Istaril always treated him like a regular person and for that he was grateful.

"Aneth ara Istaril" he greeted using the familiar elvish greeting with her and sitting down on the soft moss.

"What brings you here?" she asked him, still smiling and her fingers still plucking at the harp.

"I came for a breath of fresh air and heard your singing" he explained and she nodded.

"You have the look of one who has just escaped a meeting" she commented looking at him with knowing eyes. He nodded and leaned back against a tree next to her, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes and giving a soft groan.

"Yes, I've been in the war room listening to them argue about which faction to approach since after breakfast" he told her and she sighed

"still no decision?" she asked and he shook his head.

"I want to approach the mages, but we would gain greater acceptance in the Chantry's eyes if we approach the Templars he said unhappily before he leaned forward sharply and said explosively "I'm so damn sick of these Shemlen and their dread wolf be cursed Chantry. They oppress everything my people are, judging me because of my ears, they lock me up and prepare to execute me on circumstantial evidence one moment then revere me as a prophet the next. They then throw me into the position of making all the decisions, then judge me for them. I can't even sneeze without someone approving or disapproving of my technique!" he cried, shattering the calm of the grove.

He put his head into his hands "I just want this to all be a dream and I'll wake up in my aravel and just be Enarel the Keeper's First again. I want to be with my clan again" he whispered brokenly.

The harp stopped and a hand settled on his shoulder, he looked up, his eyes clouded with worry and desperation "what do I do? Please tell me what to do" he begged looking up at her.

She looked at him, her deep blue eyes filled with compassion and a sorrow, looking into their depths he saw that the pale blue of her eyes was actually a deep night blue on her outer iris that faded to glowing moon silver around her pupils, giving them an ethereal glow in the dim light.

In that moment she didn't look like a human, but rather some ancient and weary being who had seen far too much, like a nymph or goddess of old, glowing with the faint light and seemingly at one with her wild surroundings.

"It is not my purpose to tell you want to do Enarel. All I can tell you is to listen to your heart and know that whatever you choose I will stand by your side. Know that I will never judge you or your actions and that I will listen to all you have to say." She told him, squeezing his shoulder.

He gave a broken sob and she reached her arm around his shoulders. He curled up against her side and cried like he hadn't since he was a child. In between his sobs he heard her voice gently singing again

"May it be an evening star

Shines down upon you

May it be when darkness falls

Your heart will be true

You walk a lonely road

Oh! How far you are from home

 _Mornie utulie_ [Darkness has come]

Believe and you will find your way

 _Mornie alantie_ [Darkness has fallen]

A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadow's call

Will fly away

May it be you journey on

To light the day

When the night is overcome

You may rise to find the sun

 _Mornie utulie_

Believe and you will find your way

 _Mornie alantie_

A promise lives within you now

A promise lives within you now

Her song was gentle and filled with hope and as she sang she gently rubbed his back and this only made him cry harder, clutching at her soft grey cloak like it was a lifeline.

Eventually his tears were spent and he drifted off into sleep, still hearing her voice as she sang to him. He awoke sometime later still curled up against Istaril side. At some point she had folded her cloak around him and she sat with her harp in her hands again, a soft melody filling the air.

When he stirred she looked down at him with kind eyes and a soft smile "how are you feeling?" she asked and he sat up, feeling the salt from his tears flake of his face.

"Better" he admitted and she nodded

"I had a feeling that you needed a good cry. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone" she told him and he smiled uncertainly at her

"ma serannas Istaril, you're right I needed that."

He carefully stood and brushed himself off and bowed to her she smiled " _Avo dhavo am môr_ [Don't yield to the darkness] Enarel, if you ever need to talk my door is open to you" she replied, returning to her harp as he left the small clearing.

It was early evening when he emerged from Istaril's grove and he took a deep breath, standing tall and striding toward the town with a new sense of purpose, he would listen to his heart, they would contact the mages.

* * *

Istaril stared at Cassandra with a resigned air "full armour" she repeated and the Seeker nodded

"we're heading back to the hinterlands, if you're going to be fighting up front with me then you need to be equipped, you said you have a full suit so go put it on."

Istaril nodded and headed to her cabin, not that she need to retrieve any armour, it's just she didn't want anyone to see her put it on. She closed the door of her cabin tightly behind her and check the room over to look for spies or spy holes.

Satisfied she was alone and unobserved she pulled on her usual armour including her mithrill mail and touched the silver metal disk that sat at her throat on the armour.

It unfurled and covered her torso in a Celestial Silver cuirass molded to match her muscles and melded with her pauldrons, segmented plates of the same metal curved around her hips in a metal war skirt both engraved with scenes form her adventures with Percy and Annabeth with a crescent moon embossed on the chest, a celestial bronze line marred the molded muscles of the abdomen where she had been stabbed by Kronos in her final battle, though she had not been wearing this armour at the time.

The armour was a gift from the forges of Hephaestus after her death he had taken her old armour and improved it, adding the breastplate and war skirt as well as a few more pieces with a self-repair subroutine. She bent down and press a winged sandal design etched onto her left greave and they extended in more of the divine metal around and up her leg and down to cover her foot, ending mid-thigh beneath the war skirt and with small designs of wings engraved on each outside ankle.

She straightened and tapped a hydra head engraving on her right arm guard which caused both to become full gauntlets that extended up under her mail with curved claws on the fingers, Celestial Silver melding with the mortal steel seamlessly. She paused and stared at the engraving on the inner portion of the left gauntlet before she turned and looked at her knight shield.

She sighed, her dragon shield was getting to old for its job and the enchantments holding it together were needing more and more strength as the centuries weighed heavily on the wood and leather. She regretfully put the old shield on her bed and stared at the engraving again before she tapped the gorgon head design. A silver hoplite shield unspooled around her gauntlet and she strapped her sword back around her hips and attached her silver tipped bow and engraved quiver to their and shrugged her shoulders as to settle everything.

She strode over to the door and paused before she walked back to her armour stand and slipped a leather and silver gorget around her throat the edges fusing at the back of her neck extending below her collarbone and up to her chin. This finished she reach up and pulled her white braid forward, running her clawed fingers down the ornaments until she reached a silver charm shaped like a crescent moon, she pressed the centre of the charm and a silver helmet unfurled out around her head, a stiff emerald green horsehair crest added another foot to her height and her eyes glinted through the slits and a crescent moon was engraved on the forehead with the scenes of the hunt adorning the rest of it.

The entire suit of Celestial Silver gleamed softly with the moon's light enhancing her own soft unnoticeable glow that was part of her birthright as the adopted daughter of Artemis. Her reward for holding the sky along with a particular proclivity for the more wilderness related pursuits, a love for moonlight and an ability to be an excellent midwife was coupled with a slight reddish tint in her hair, some silver in her eyes and a very faint silvery glow to her skin.

Grinning she opened the door and stooped slightly to leave, nodding nonchalantly to the stunned Solas who stared at her with an open mouth as she strode through the streets of haven looking like something that had fallen from her mother's chariot.

People pointed at her and whispers followed her as she walked. She ignored them and held her head high as she stalked through the streets with a pride that would have made her mother smile.

* * *

"You're insane!" Sera yelled at Istaril who laughed and continued to fire the blunted and wrapped arrows at the weaving elf.

"Oh quit being such a baby Sera" she called back catching the elf in the ribs. "The Shang who taught me this did it with real arrows, I need you to be able to dodge properly before you try catching them."

She laughed merrily as she hit the swearing elf in the shin, leaping to the side to avoid the rock that the blond threw at her, intercepting it with an arrow and hitting the outstretched arm that had thrown it. "Shit, friggin' mad tit!" screamed Sera stumbling and glowering as Istaril continued to laugh. Enarel walked over to join Cassandra on the far left of the field, watching the two figures.

"How long have they been at it?" he asked Cassandra who shrugged "around three hours now, She hasn't stopped except to get her arrows back" she said dryly as Sera continued to scream obscenities at the laughing archer.

"Ohh nice one Sera!" she called as the elf did a flying roll and dodged the trio of arrows that had been flying toward her.

"Ok Halt" Istaril called and Sera fell to the ground panting hard.

"Crazy Bitch" she gasped and Istaril shrugged "matter of perspective" she informed Sera who made a rude gesture. "Here how about you try with me" Istaril offered returning with her quiver full of arrows.

Sera scrambled to her feet with a slightly feral grin "Yes!" she cried in excitement, a vengeful gleam in her eyes.

"But I get to keep my bow" Istaril conditioned handing the quiver over to Sera and shrugging out of her cloak, moving to stand down the range, a smile on her face.

The Elf nodded and snatched the quiver from Istaril and ran over to grab her bow. "Go!" she shrieked firing off arrows as fast as she could.

Istaril watched the arrows moving towards her with calm eyes, waiting till they were almost upon her before falling to the ground and rolling away, popping to her feet and catching an arrow as it flew past her, spinning it into her own bow and returning it to sender before back flipping out of the course of more arrows.

"FUCK" Sera cried, jumping to the side as her own arrow whizzed past her, pausing in her firing for a moment before swearing as Istaril fired more arrows back at her. Sera snarled and began to fire again and the whole thing devolved into essentially Sera firing arrows ant Istaril who either dodged or caught them and sent them back most of the retuned arrows hit Sera causing her to curse even more.

All the while Istaril was laughing, calling out jokes and encouragement at the raging elf. Finally Sera ran out of Arrows and glared at Istaril who ran lightly over to her and grinned slapping the elf's shoulder.

"Thanks for that!" she said, her face so happy she was practical glowing to Enarel and Cassandra eyes "that reminds me of playing catch with my mother and the Hunt" she grinned at the muttering elf and she shrugged at her pupil's bad mood turning to look to look at Enarel and Cassandra.

"Wanna play?" she asked holding up the quiver, her face filled with childish playfulness and her eyes sparling with laughter and light, the other two shook their heads.

"You played this with your mother?" Cassandra asked and Istaril nodded "I got adopted a few years back, she helped me through a rough patch. Mom is really into hunting, she has this group that she leads that run around hunting pretty much everything, I got to run with them for a while before I had to leave, but I still get letters from them" she smiled and it made her look her young age rather than an ancient soul in a young body.

Enarel and Cassandra smiled at her infectious enthusiasm and Istaril waved at them as she bounded off, her bow in hand, swinging her cloak over her shoulders. "I'm off to go shoot something warm blooded and furry, so I won't be at dinner, Cheers!" she called, sprinting away into the woods surrounding Haven.

The reflection of the sun off the snow made it look like she was glowing with silver light and Cassandra looked at Enarel with a perplexed expression "something warm blooded and furry?" she deadpanned and Enarel cracked up, snickering at the Seeker's expression.

"At least she's in a good mood" he told her and Cassandra nodded "true" she admitted as they turned and walked back to the tavern.

* * *

"That shield looks heavy" Varric noted as they strode through the forest of the hinterlands.

"Oh it is, but I don't feel it" she told him hefting the large circular shield with ease.

"How are you able to lift it?" Cassandra asked and Istaril shrugged

"maybe I was a dragon in a past life" she said with a smile and Cassandra made a disgusted noise, while Varric and Enarel shook their heads.

The elf's hand sparked and flared "rift ahead" he told them and the smiles vanished as they brought out their weapons, they crouched and peaked their eyes over a rise to see the rift in question sitting in a small crater that had been blasted into the trees.

Two terror demons and several shades wandered around the perimeter chittering and moaning to each other. "Ok Istaril, Cassandra I want you two to go in together, keep them distracted while Varric and I take them from a distance." Enarel commanded and the two warriors nodded to him, shifting their weapons in the grip before easing over the rise and standing in the shade of the trees near the edge.

They looked at each other and nodded, charging forward swords drawn. "For the Maker!" Cassandra bellowed smashing into a shade, knocking back as she drove her blade into its shoulder before beheading it.

"Alalalalalalalalala!" shrieked Istaril using her friend Xena's signature cry as she slashed a Shade across the chest and smashing the boss of her shield into its face, crushing half of its skull and causing it to disintegrate with a wail.

Istaril spun and caught the downward sweeping claws of a terror demon on Silivegil bringing her shield up and crashing it into the creature's chest, driving it back screaming and smoking from coming it's contact with the divine metal, her sword followed like a silver snake, piercing its throat and dragging up, killing it.

She leap away from her kill and spun, charging at another shade, stabbing it through the abdomen and bashing her helmeted head against the shades. It stumbled back screaming as it clutched its head which was smoking and she followed up with a kick to its chest. Istaril grinned and pursued the injured creature backhanding it with the cross guard of her sword and swiping low, bisecting the wailing smoking creature.

She turned and caught up to Cassandra as she battled with the other terror demon, both of them attacked the demon on either side, dividing its attention by attacking on both sides.

The terror demon fell beneath their blades and they paused for a moment before throwing themselves into battle against the new arisen rage demon that tried to catch Cassandra from behind. "Die you Bastard!" she heard Enarel shout and she turned her head to catch sight of a greater Shade with a large crest rushing up the hill, shrugging off bolts and spells.

"Go help them!" Cassandra told her and she nodded, sprinting across the intervening space. But she knew she wouldn't make it, she grinned savagely and pulled off her shield, hurling it like a discus at the demon. It hit with a satisfying crunch, throwing the monster to the ground. She sprinted up to the struggling abomination and brought Silivegil down in a shining blur beheading the shade.

As she was recovering from the swing and yanking her shield from the ground when a shade caught her on the side, its large claws striking against the Celestial Silver and dragging across the surface with a sound of nails down a chalkboard. The breath was knocked from her body but she heard the shade screams the metal burned it and she spun, sword first to decapitate the offending shade.

Looking around she saw no other foes as she gasped, trying to pull air into her collapsed lungs. "Are you alright?" Cassandra demanded moving over to her in worry, but Istaril waved her off

"Fine… Bastard just got in a luck shot" she told the Seeker.

Not believing her Cassandra examined the location the demon struck "There's no damage" she said "not even a scratch, how?" she demanded and Istaril straightened

"Celestial Silver, doesn't scratch that easily, besides that shade was a pussy" she told the seeker shrugging and sheathing her sword as Enarel closed the rift with a dull bone jarring thud. Cassandra looked at Varric who shrugged before they all followed Enarel on to the next rift.

* * *

They camped out in the hinterlands that night, their tents sitting in the crook of a stream around the small fire. Istaril smiled as she listened to Varric tell a story, gesticulating wildly with the ram shank that was supposed to be eaten not used for dramatic effect.

She rolled her eyes at one of his exaggerations and stood, excusing herself politely and walking over to the forest edge around their camp, lifting herself up into one of the trees with practiced ease, climbing high until she was nestled in among the branches.

The light of the twin moons sifted down through the branches and she smiled, letting the light of the silver moon wash over her and smiling at the feeling of love that came from it.

Her mind wandered back to the night almost six hundred years ago now when she had been adopted by the maiden goddess of the moon, she had woken in Apollos temple so weak she could barely breathe. Artemis and her friends had been waiting for her to awake and when she had they had pestered her with questions, apparently Zeus's award ceremony had been postponed till she awoke.

She had been too tired to speak but she had made a gamble and used her mind to communicate with them. This had led to Artemis nearly blasting her until she had explained. This had led to more questions until she had simply given up and shown them all of her memories. It had been a desperate gamble but she was so sick of holding it a secret away from those she considered friends and family.

There had been gasps and tears, anger and uncertainty until she finished and had passed out again. When she had awoken she had been surrounded by Artemis and her hunters, they had an offer, since she could not join their group due to her other "job" as they called it, they offered her adoption by Artemis.

Miranda had no godly parent, she was a "blank slate" demigod, all the power but not focused into a certain domain, the reasons had been relatively simple: she had nearly died to allow the goddess to retain her strength for the battle, she had no godly parent, she was a hunter in her very soul, she was a woman and although she did not hate men and they knew that it was necessary sometimes for her to be a lover to fulfill her job they still wanted her in their group.

The only way was adoption and she had gladly accepted, making her the first daughter of the hunt, child of the moon and all the perks that came with. She had spent all of her spare time with the hunt except for her quests with Percy and Annabeth and they had helped her get over her depression of being immortal and never stopping, forming a tight bond between the whole hunt.

After she had died she had found out Artemis and the hunters had managed to get a dialogue with the Powers who had agreed for continued contact though her journey and to also to retain her demigod status. Also when she was finally released she could have her choice of underworld or the hunt.

She did have some more odd urges every now and then, such as the longing to go hunting often, preferring nature over civilization, sometimes a desire to castrate men she didn't like and being nocturnal with a love of moonlight.

She smiled gently to herself and heard the others calling her name, with a sigh she dropped soundlessly out of the tree and approached the fire again, her movements blending with the forest perfectly. She stalked up to the camp and slid back onto her place.

"You rang" she drawled, causing the others to jump.

"Andraste's Knickers" Varric gasped sagging onto his seat again "how do you do that?" he demanded and she simply smiled and winked turning to Enarel with a raised eyebrow, the elf was staring at her with a slightly confused look before he shook his head.

"we were wondering about shifts, which one do you want?" he asked.

She smiled and shrugged "I can take the mid watch" she offered and the others nodded in relief that she had taken such a difficult shift.

They banked the fire and all but Varric walked to their tents and prepared for bed. She lay down and felt her eyes droop shut as sleep took her.

* * *

She sat on her horse looking over the field before her. The massive grey war horse snorted and pawed the ground, champing at his bit, she leaned forward and stroked his neck with her gauntleted hand sending feelings of peace to the charger.

The others of the army shifted uncomfortably behind her and at her sides rode a man with dark hair and a silver crown. "Soon now Ed" she told him her eyes watching the dark forces approaching.

The man nodded to her "signal them" he commanded and she pulled out her horn, made from the horn of the Grecian Minotaur polished with silver mouth piece and decorations.

She blew the horn and felt satisfaction as the horn blast echoed over the field, a returning horn sounded across the field. King Edmund nodded to her and they urged their horses forward across the field, the king's standard bearer galloping behind them.

The three of them advanced to the centre of the field and met the trio that rode from the opposite side. Their dark skin and turbans marked them as Calormene.

"Come to surrender Narnian?" the foremost rider taunted and she recognized as Rabadash, prince of Calormen.

"Leave Rabadash, Susan has rebuffed your offer, let there be no war between us" he said in a strong and commanding voice.

The Prince laughed at this and sneered at the king "I think not Barbarian" he spat before turning to look at her "Ahhh the lovely Dianna, radiant as the moon, like always. Surely you do not wish to die here, it would be a shame to mar that pretty face any more. Perhaps I will take you as my concubine I'm sure you will appreciated me, after I finish with your Queen." He purred at her and she glared at him through the slits of her helmet.

"I will remove you balls for such a comment, southern dog. I am the princess of the moon and the hunt, your soul will be mine, Boy." She spat silver light beginning to gather around her so her glowed with the moons power, her pupils became Draconic and she snarled at the prince.

He yelped at the change in her before he dragged his horse around and spurred back to his forces. Dianna and Edmund galloped back to their forces tense with he prospect of the coming battle.

There was a moment of stillness before the Calormen forces charged forward with a roar. "Archers Fire!" bellowed Edmund, Dianna grinned and pulled her bow from her back and began to pick of enemies with pinpoint accuracy.

Horses fell, men tumbled from their saddles, claimed by her grey fletched arrows and she grinned in savage glee, rejoicing in the death of such pigs.

"Knights!" the king yelled and she stashed her bow back over her shoulder in the sheath for it, shrugging her dragon shield into place, drawing her sword and barring her teeth. "Charge!" came the cry and she spurred her horse forward with a scream.

The two forces met with a crashing of steel and she growled, her elven blade cleaving through their segmented armour with ease. The king galloped at her side laying waste to his foes before he was lost in the melee.

A spear jabbed up at her side from a downed lancer and she wove to the side and signaled her horse. The charge pivoted of his hind legs and struck out at the man, bashing his helmet in with its iron shod hooves. More swarmed at her and they tried to drag her off her horse, she snarled at them and felt her horse scream in pain, buckling under her.

She leapt from her dying charger and landed among her foes. She duck a scimitar and came up under his guard her sword leading. He fell with a gurgle and she smashed her way through the men surrounding her.

From the corner of her eyes she saw to young boys and she cursed, throwing the men around her away like they were rag dolls. She sprinted through the mess of blood and weapons until she reached the more competent of the two.

"You Foolish Imbecilic child!" she screamed at him as she beheaded the Calormen about to kill the clumsy one next to him. The two boys looked up at her and their eyes widened. Her silver armour was almost completely crimson, she was glowing silver in her rage and her dragon eyes stared at them furiously under her helmet.

"Corin I will skin you once this is over now stop being such a fool and help your brother, he should not be here!" she shouted at the prince who paled and looked over to the boy who shook near him, clutching his sword awkwardly. She snorted and turned back to the battle, staying near the two boys and laying into those around her with her sword.

Blood spattered around her, flicking off her blade as she swung it, her arm had long gone numb from the blows her shield had taken and the blows she had dealt out with it. There was a horn and she knew that King Lune had made a sorte to join them.

A Tarkahn with a crimson beard attacked her and she sneered at the man "Anroden, I will have your head for your treatment of a Narnian citizen" she screamed at him, attacking with blinding speed, appearing little more than a silver and crimson blur as she attacked. The Tarkahn held up for only a moment under her blade and she shrieked triumphantly as his head was separated from his shoulders.

The battle was winding down but she continued, lost in a haze of rage as she slew the foes that neared her. She began to sprint around the field with a maniac gleam in her eyes until a woman's voice pierced the thick haze.

"Dianna Halt, they are beaten!" She shook her head and turned to see a golden haired woman with a bow nearing her. "Heed your queen, cease your fighting!" she called again and Dianna felt her words penetrate.

The adrenaline faded from her system and she sagged under the weight of her armour she shook the blood off her blade and stumbled over to her friend.

"Sorry 'bout Lu, just got angry" she panted leaning down and wiping her sword on a dead Calormen's turban and sliding it into its sheath.

The woman shook her head and put her gloved hand on Dianna's blood drenched shoulder "I know you have an easier time fighting men, but that was disproportionate even for you" the young queen told her friend, her blue eyes worried.

"Rabadash insinuated raping me and Susan" Dianna reported, her eyes still glowing silver and draconic and Lucy made a small gasp of understanding before she gestured over to where the prince was hanging by his mail. "Well he's beaten at least."

* * *

Istaril woke up and shook her head, looking up to see Cassandra standing at the entrance of her tent "your turn" she said and Istaril nodded crawling out of her beadroll.

Thinking back she smirked, Aslan had changed from turning Rabadash into a donkey into a Jackalope, she had laughed so hard that she had cried and had thanked the lion for the gift, hauling the confused prince up by his antlers and laughing at its terrified expression.

They had shipped the prince back to Tashbann and she had promised to hunt the bastard down if he tried anything.

The terror on his face was priceless and still made her smile to this day. Sighing she pulled on her mithrill and grey cloak and hood, grabbing her bow before slinking out into the night for her watch, nodding to Cassandra and climbing a tree to wait through her shift.

* * *

 **A/N-** Ok one thing I want to say. Istaril's background is just as much a mystery to me as it is too you. I am literally making this up as I go. I like the idea of her being an adopted hunter because think of it. She really likes the hunters and being an ex dragon loves to do so. not to mention she was semi nocturnal anyway and excellent in terms of stealth.

This does not change her abilities at all, she was already a superb archer and ridiculously fast, stealthy and all the rest save for the virginal thing but she has a pass for it because sometimes it is require that she become the hero's lover if only to lend support. She draws the line at doing that too often though so its not a very common thing.

This was more of an emotional support thing for her. Artemis and even Zoe are older then her, she was at a really low point during the Olympian adventure so she broke down and told them everything.

Artemis admired her strength and independence but also recognized how lost and alone Istaril was feeling, lost maidens are her specialty and because the powers never made her a specific demigod Artemis claimed her.

The letters from home help her a lot and she spent a lot of time bonding with the hunt and her adopted mother. She even has claims to being princess of the hunt and moon because she is Artemis's only child.

I want Istaril to be realistic and I think that anyone who has done what she has is bound to end up depressed or jaded because she has to restart over and over and over again, always leaving loved ones behind, so the Powers relented and let her have a form of connection back to those worlds, usually through the gods and their domains; this and the promise of an eventual release keep her going.

The hunters are immortal so they still remember her and contact her even though its been several hundred years, so they are probably the best group along with the elves to let her remain in contact with, the dead can only send impressions. So she has spent six hundred years interacting with Artemis and the hunt as a daughter and sister, so she is really tight with them, even if only through letters (mental ones) and sometimes the occasional dream hunt with them.

When she hunts she can get impressions of the others in the hunt are doing and vice versa, the moon allows her to send messages to and from so it helps her have consistency.

The silver glow when she was fighting was because she was enraged at a male, the glow is based on her emotions and when she's happy its brighter and when she's furious or working in one of Artemis's domains it get stronger.

Hence the killing of men makes her mildly satisfied when she feels they deserve it. Consider it a bit of a bleed over from the adoption.

She needed heavy armour so I made the gift as it was the most plausible scenario, and I will note that she is slightly insane, she keeps it at bay with the help from the hunt but she has been tortured, abused, killed and a been in many, many wars. She is Scarred. so she can flip flop between childish, and mature a lot of the time. listen Enya's let it be, the passing of the elves and Legolas's song of the sea, they were my inspiration for this chapter

Hope you still enjoy.

Cheers! Mystborn!


	10. Fire and Lies

**Chapter 10- Fire and Lies**

So is there actually a plan or are we just wandering around doing stuff?" Istaril asked from where she crouched over her latest kill. She was sporting light armor, a bow, and a pair of daggers today, her sword unused in its sheath as she wielded two long silver hunting knives with deadly grace and speed. For the life of her Cassandra could not figure out where Istaril hid her armor and shield. She had simply waltzed out of her tent in her normal mail and light armour, packing up her tent with no sign of her three foot diameter shield and heavy silver helmet.

"We're heading up into the hills to look for a Grey Warden named Blackwall," Enarel said, looking up from his staff, which he was checking for cracks.

"Oh, wonderful," Istaril sighed as she yanked one of her feather daggers from a bandit's skull, wiping it on his ragged armor before sliding it back onto her bandoleer "another fetch and carry quest" she muttered referring to the numerous errands they had been running for the various denizens of the hinterlands over the past few days.

Varric chuckled. "Oh, cheer up, Feathers. Maybe there will be some more bandits for you to kill." Cassandra rolled her eyes as Istaril perked up, stood, and followed the others as they continued to move through the Hinterlands.

"So why no sword or shield today?" Enarel asked curiously.

Istaril shrugged. "Armor is cumbersome. I like being fast. You can't kill what you can't hit," she told the party "plus being a huntress really runs in the family, got to show mom all the tortu… I mean training, paid off" she quipped. Cassandra snorted.

"What I want to know is where your armor went," Cassandra told her, glaring at her pack. Which was far too flat and appeared too light to contain the full armour Istaril had been sporting the day before.

"Probably in my hair, I'm always losing stuff in there," Istaril joked. Cassandra groaned. Istaril was always making quips like that, and Cassandra didn't know why she even bothered asking anymore. Varric, however, loved hearing Istaril's excuses, which ranged from "being a dragon in my past life" to "being raised by elves," and even "my mother is a moon goddess." Cassandra made another disgusted sound and stomped after them, grumbling to herself about impertinent huntresses who seemed incapable of serious thought.

Cassandra watched Istaril from the corner of her eye as they moved in relative silence through the forest, the younger woman seeming to be completely at home amongst the trees, moving as silently as a cat through the underbrush, not even leaving footprints. When it came to understanding the other woman, Cassandra felt she was missing some key bit of information.

Istaril was young, but her eyes looked as if they had seen too much. She had scars and fought with a blinding speed and precision that was borderline inhuman, she'd spoken of many years' worth of training, and not to mention the astonishing stories she told. Cassandra simply couldn't understand Istaril's motivations for helping them. She didn't believe in the Maker and seemed to bounce between being sacrilegious or devout towards her personal gods, whoever they were.

Istaril would say things sometimes, then look around as if waiting for some unseen watcher to react. Once she even screamed "Zeus's saggy left nut!" at the sky and then looked up expectantly, as if waiting for divine retribution to come before she laughed and skipped away. But it was clear her morning prayers were never to be disturbed. Sometimes she would sit and stare at the larger, silver moon for hours and she had, on occasion, burned some of her food at meals, murmuring things like, "Hope you get this, Mom," and, "Thanks for the message, Uncle," when she thought no one noticed.

Leliana was ready to tear her hair out over Istaril, and Josephine had simply given up, saying that if Istaril was here to help then they should let her. Cassandra found that she liked the quirky traveler. Istaril was a fierce warrior, yet she moved too fast for most enemies to block her, and she was also a skilled hunter, always catching fresh food so they didn't need to rely on their rations too often.

"What's on your mind, Casandra?" Istaril asked, jolting the Seeker from her thoughts. "You look confused."

Cassandra glanced up to meet the other woman's silver-blue eyes. "Why are you helping us?" she asked, deciding to take the blunt approach. "You aren't here for religion or love of country, so why?" she asked.

Istaril sighed. "Does it matter? I want the breach sealed, and neither my faith nor land of origin should not matter. I don't press it on others or parade my nationality around to make others feel inferior, so how about we leave both out of the equation. I am helping because I must. This world needs to be healed or it will tear itself apart," she said seriously, turning back to the forest and leaving Cassandra deep in thought once again.

* * *

Istaril sighed as she lagged behind the company she was thinking of the upcoming skirmish. While she was certain it would be relatively minor they would be hampered by Blackwall's "recruits" she snorted at the man's interpretation of the right of conscription. She had learned from bitter experienced that inexperienced and poorly trained recruits trying to "help" usually lead to a lot of people getting hurt. Not to mention that Cassandra would need her help to keep the bandits off of Enarel and Varric.

She cautiously fell further behind until the group rounded a bend in the forest, but she monitored their location mentally before she quickly activated her armour, the heavy silver metal settling on her shoulders as she shrugged them to adjust the breastplate, her shield hung comfortably from her arm and the helmet rested as a familiar weight on her head. Fully armoured she checked in with the company and felt the beginnings of Cassandra wanting to talk to her, she began to sprint forward muttering "Maia" under her breath as she went, the wing engravings on her greaves came to life and lifted her three feet from the ground, their strong motions propelling her swiftly as she ran forward faster than she would have on foot, just before she reached them she whispered "Maia" again, the wings retracted and she landed with a soft thud, Cassandra turned to look behind at her and did a double take.

"When did you put on your armour?" she asked stunned and confused.

Istaril giggled from inside her helmet, "oh found it, turns out it was in my hair." She quipped and Cassandra frowned, turning away with a troubled expression, but was interrupted by Blackwall, though throughout the conversation she glanced back at Istaril uncertainly, but any attempt to corner her was blocked by the advancing marauders. The leader charged at them screaming what she assumed was supposed to be an intimidating war cry.

"Amateur" she muttered bringing her shield up and smashed it forward with the force of a battering ram, there was a sickening crunch and his limp body flew back. She drew her sword and charged forward catching the next man's sword on her shield and batting it away, opening her body for her sword to dart out like a snake and catch him in the side as he twisted away. She cursed and dragged the sword up, the blade catching his elbow and shearing through the crude and poorly maintained armour and the joint of his shoulder beneath it like a hot knife through snow. The man screamed and stumbled away, dropping his sword to clutch at the bleeding stump.

She sighed and gave him a swift death, slashing his head from his shoulders before she ducked to avoid an oncoming blow, lashing out with a kick to the man's groin and wincing at his high pitched scream of pain before she ended the poor man's misery with another beheading. Then watched as one of the recruits stumbled back from a bandit wielding a war hammer and sneered, lunging forward to relieve this idiot of his head as well.

"What is it with you and beheadings?!" demanded Varric from where he thrust his bayonet into the joint of a bandits knee, rolling out of the way as the man screamed and brought his axe down where the dwarf had been standing as his leg gave out from under him.

"Headless zombies can't eat your brains!" she yelled back, kicking the head so it knocked another bandit back at step, she followed her impromptu football and smashed her shield into his face and followed by skewering him.

"What?!" Varric yelled at her and she simply laughed, enjoying the moment of levity and drawing back her foot to kick the man off her blade.

"Fire Ball!" came a yell and she found her world consumed by a raging torrent of flame. It didn't burn her but she could feel the heat, as well as the smell of the roasting bandit drove itself into her own nose. The smell of burning meat, cloth and hair filled her world and she gasped, flinging the blackened corpse away from her, images of herself writing in flames chained to a post swirling behind her eyes as she stumbled blindly away from the field, wrestling with the memories of the last time she had been so surrounded by fire.

She could feel the post behind her and the chains around her wrists and she cried out in fear as the memory surged forward, breaking through her barriers and driving her to her knees and her sword from her hand as she was lost to the horror of that particular memory again. "

Istaril?! ISTARIL!" a voice yelled at her and she gasped, surging upright, her hidden blade jabbing forward toward her attacker's jugular. "Shit!" the voice yelled and the person jumped back. She opened her eyes and lunged up with a snarl, landing in a crouch, there were people surrounding her, calling to her, but their meaning didn't penetrate the haze of terror that filled her mind, this terror translated itself onto aggression, lashing out at those around her in an attempt to protect her from further harm.

They backed away, hands in the air and she glanced around, there was a forest behind them. Forests were safe, always safe, home, nothing could find her in the forest. She bolted, sprinting almost faster than the eye could follow past them and into the woods, a mantra of "run, run, run" pounding like a drum in her brain. The heavy silver metal around her body folded away and she continued to move, muscles pumping in order to escape the crimson flames that gnawed at her mind.

She eventually collapsed in a small hollow, folding her body in on its self and sinking exhaustedly into the terror ridden realm of dreams.

* * *

Cassandra cursed as she stumbled back from Istaril as she lunged at Varric a blade sliding out from a hidden sheath beneath her wrist and she jabbed at him. Her eyes snapped open and Cassandra gasped at the view of the catlike eyes that glowed with a frightening silver light. Those eyes were filled with terror ad pain and Cassandra was filled with a feeling of utmost panic that didn't feel natural, almost as if it wasn't hers, disjointed images flashed before her as she made contact with the terrified gaze.

Istaril's eye flicked over them without recognition ignoring their calls and questions. She shot to her feet and bolted past them, her limbs almost a blur, leaving her sword on the ground. Cassandra dropped her sword and shield and lunged after the fleeing woman, forcing her body to its limit to follow. Images continued to plague her vision and she cursed as she tripped over the exposed roots and hidden hollows on the forest floor. She didn't know what she was following but her instincts pulled her along, her breath was coming in short gasps and her legs burned as she drove her heavily armoured body forward.

She found Istaril curled in a shivering ball in a small hollow at the base of a large pine tree that was shivering and shaking while its bows curled around her like the arms of a mother attempting to comfort their child.

Cassandra stared at this scene in fear and awe but was driven into action but a loud whimper from Istaril and a feeble cry of "No please no". She knelt next to the woman's trembling form and put her hand on Istaril's shoulder, she stiffened at the intense fear she felt from the prone form and the world went dark.

* * *

Pain, pain and darkness. That's all she could comprehend. Her back felt like it had been flayed, pieces of a shredded shift brushing against the tattered remains of her back. Her mouth felt empty and the back of her throat burned and stung but she could taste nothing.

"Well La de da" an oily male voice wormed its way into her ears and she repressed a shudder "Looks like you're awake on time. Nice of you to be punctual for once Witch" she tried to open her eyes but a band of hot searing pain flared to life across her eyes from temple to temple, resigned to the blackness she carefully extended her mind out and felt the man's sickly presence beyond some form of metal barrier.

There was a scent of water, stone, rust mold, sewage, sweat and blood. The voices echoed and there was some pain filled groans beyond, a dungeon she realised, focusing back on the man.

"Well I must say once you've been properly muzzled you're quite tame." He mused and she shuddered at the images that swirled through her head, desperately trying to shut her mind to the sick and twisted fantasies coming from the man before her.

"Ahh well, it's time for your execution anyway. Can't have you late for that. Bring her" he commanded. There was the creak of rusted iron hinges and two pairs of large gauntleted hands grabbed her biceps in a vice like grip and roughly dragged her from her cell. She stifled a groan at the pain in her back and realised that her tongue was missing, making the sound harsh and animalistic. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, there was no taste but the warm liquid filled her mouth and the scent of copper grew stronger in her nose, she spat the mouthful of thick liquid out and hard one of the guards swear.

"By the lord she really is a witch" he muttered but she ignored him, too preoccupied with fighting to keep silent as her back screamed with the rough handling. She struggled to keep her body from voicing it's pain as they hauled her through the halls, refusing to let her stand, kicking her legs out from under her when she tried.

The air grew fresher and she tentatively extended her mind outward again. There were hundreds of minds both human and animal nearby and as she felt herself being dragged out into a drizzling rain she heard their thoughts and saw through their eyes. She was dressed in a torn and dirty sackcloth shift that barely reached her knees with the back little more than a collection of shreds that revealed the torn ribbons of flesh that hung from her back with fresh emerald green blood glistening in the dim light and olive dried blood quickly darkening as the rain rewet it.

Every inch of her skin was mottled with bruises and a long angry green and charred welt of a burn stretched cross her eyes, melting the skin and destroying her sight. Her hair had been brutally shorn to a rough stubble, revealing the line of symbols around her head and green blood trickled from her various cuts and abrasions. "Oh god not her, please god why? Jesus have mercy on her soul, god receiver her soul" the whispers and thoughts followed her and the sound of many lips praying for her soul echoed in her ears.

She felt them drag her up some steps and fasten her manacled hands roughly behind her to a large wooden stake, splinters broke off and stabbed into her back, causing the emerald liquid to drip down onto the ground with soft sound pitter-patter that none the less was heard by the silent crowds. She felt a viscus liquid being splashed against her legs and more being poured over her head, stinging as it touched her cuts and realization hit her like a lightning bolt, oil. She was going to be burned.

"Today is a good day for Nottingham" the man's oily voice interrupted again "today we cleanse our land of the corruption of sorcery. Let all known that Elinor Wanderwing has been accused and been proven of using magic. Therefore she shall die a witch's death, she shall be burned at the stake." He cried but there was no cheering, many of the people remembered how she had healed them, saved them from the plague and much more, they felt no joy or vindication at her death, and it only made them loath the Sherriff more.

She felt the approach of several minds she knew well, they were moving fast and the panic they were exuding threatened to drown her. "No Robin, my time is up." She told him firmly, fear lacing her thoughts. "Please don't give yourselves up for me. Goodbye, all of you. Marian you and Robin have a whole host of little ones won't you?" she pleaded in desperate to have some kind of comfort in these last moments, her mind brushing theirs to deliver her last words.

She could feel the gang's tears and Marian's nod "we'll name one after you" she promised.

Elinor smiled "run, don't watch, don't let this be your last memory of me" she pleaded but their refusal was almost immediate.

"No! We won't leave you!" Robin told her stubbornly.

"you will be avenged, I swear it." Jac vowed, determination and sorrow thick in her mental voice.

"God bless you" Little John whispered to her and she felt them fade back into the woods, but their eyes continued to watch her.

She felt something thump against the platform and saw through the eyes around her that it was a torch. Thick smoke began to fill the air, filling her lungs and coating her throat, she coughed and winced as the heat grew and drew nearer. There was a crackling, whooshing, roaring sound and suddenly her world dissolved into pain.

The skin on her legs blistered and cracked, melting in the intense heat and she screamed, the pain was unbelievable. A spark landed in her oil drenched hair and she felt it light. The fire coiled around her like a greedy serpent, its blistering heat searing her as she screamed and choked on smoke.

There was nothing else in the world, only the fire and she could almost see it dancing in her ruined eyes, her mind now loose and showing her a grisly view of her death from multiple angles. Blackness ate at the edges of her mental vision as she gasped fustily for air and she grabbed at oblivion with both hands, desperate to escape. With the roar of the fire still in her ears she died.

* * *

Cassandra wrenched herself away from Istaril's prone form and fell to the ground trembling, her eyes riveted on Istaril who was stirring. She watched in horror as Istaril's eyes snapped open and her chest heaved in a deep gasp, like someone emerging from deep water. She sat up and turned to Cassandra, her silver blue eyes piercing Cassandra's soul and the brave Seeker shrank away from her unnatural gaze, eyes wide and her body trembling.

"You saw" Istaril said quietly, her face was so still and grave could have been carved in stone and adorned a tomb, her cheeks glistened with her silent tears that rolled slowly down and dripped onto the ground. In a moment Cassandra finally noticed her green tinged complexion and the strong silver glow that surrounded her, almost as if a veil had lifted from in front of Istaril, making her seem clearer and more real.

"What are you?" Cassandra demanded weakly, still kneeling on the leaf strewn ground her hands clenching into fist in the even she had to fight. Istaril's eyes became infinitely sad as she saw the fear in the Seekers eyes and her shoulders slumped, her head turning to look at the ground.

"Even I do not know anymore" she replied, her voice weary and her eyes looking a thousand years old and her body sagged as if under an immense weight.

"Are you a demon?" Cassandra asked, strength returning to her voice and her hand reaching for her blade, ready to pull it should her fear prove true. At least then it would be a threat she understood.

Istaril shook her head and shifted her legs under her body so she was kneeling "A long time ago I was human, I was born to human parents, live a mundane human life, and then I died." Cassandra stared at her in confusion, hand still clenching her sword, Istaril smiled sadly "there are more things in heaven and earth Cassandra, then are dreamt of in your Chantry" Istaril explained simply. "I have seen and done much, I…" she paused and looked down, fresh tears rolling down her face "I do not want others to suffer as I have" she said, her voice a mere whisper.

Cassandra stared at her, confusion warring with distrust and her grip loosening. "What do you want?" Cassandra asked, hostility colouring her voice and Istaril looked up and sighed shaking her head tiredly.

"Exactly what I told you and Leliana, I want to fix the breach in the sky and bring the one responsible to justice. It takes a very specific kind of crazy to tear open the sky." She sighed her shoulders slumping "trust me, you will want to catch this madman before he does any more harm."

Cassandra stood, still staring at Istaril with hard eyes "And how do I know you are telling the truth?" she demanded and Istaril stood as well, looking the Seeker in the eye. "I can't lie Cassandra." She said, her eyes serious and her face blank. Cassandra snorted and Istaril reached back into her hair and pulled forward a braid crowded with seven long iridescent copper wing feathers. "These are the feathers of a Tortallan Griffon, freely given. It is impossible to lie around one and this power translates to their feathers. Illusions have no power over me but the price is my ability to lie!"

Cassandra continued to look at her in disbelief and Istaril groaned and grabbed the seekers hand and put it on one of the feathers. Cassandra tried to pull her hand away but found that it was held firmly in an iron grip. "Try to lie Cassandra" Istaril commanded.

Cassandra growled at her "I will not make a fool of myself to satisfy your delusions" she snapped and Istaril's face became frighteningly blank, her voice even more so.

"Try. To. Lie." She commanded her eyes holding a dangerous tone. Cassandra grit her teeth and tried to speak a simple lie, but she couldn't, the words remained stuck behind her teeth. She opened her mouth and tried to force the words out but they refused to leave her mouth.

Istaril pulled her hand away from the feathers and repeated her order "now try to lie" she instructed.

Cassandra frowned "I want to become queen of Nevarra" she said and stared at Istaril in shock. "How?"

Istaril released her wrist and held up the braid, the feathers fluttered at the action and she smiled sadly. "I am as I have always been Cassandra. You wanted to know more about me? Well now you know more about me than anyone else in this world."

Cassandra looked at her and a myriad of emotions spun through the seeker's mind. Confusion, anger, fear, uncertainty, gladness, awe and then it settled on horror. "That wasn't a dream was it?" she demanded, horror filling her face and eyes, Istaril looked down and shook her head. Cassandra sat down heavily on the ground, her anger leaving her in a flood as the memory of the dream came crashing back on her. "You were burned at the stake" she whispered looking up at Istaril, tears gathering in her eyes.

Istaril nodded sadly and lowered herself down to Cassandra's level.

"Not every life is peaceful" she murmured looking down at the ground, "that particular death led to the worst time in my life. I was depressed for a long time after that, attempted to commit suicide on many occasions but the Powers wouldn't let me. Hanging, slitting my own throat, slitting my wrists, drowning, jumping to my death, disembowelment, poison, attacking animals stronger than myself, starvation, dehydration, collapsing caves on myself, I tried a thousand different ways to end it all, but it never worked. Instead they put me on the path where I met my mother and sisters. They saved me and helped me come to terms with who and what I am, they gave me a place and a home that I will always remember." she closed her eyes "I'm tired Cassandra, so very, very tired" she whispered, her body sagging and a small tear slipped though her closed lids. Her voice was exhausted and filled with a deep sadness that dragged at Cassandra's heart.

Then what she had said sank in and Cassandra looked at her sharply. "The powers?" she asked in confusion.

Istaril nodded "The Powers-that-be I call them. Imagine a sadistic group of authors in a room with extreme power. I am their favourite chew toy, they toss me around from place to place and give me all these abilities but no help or instruction, they just shove me into one crisis after another and I am tired of it." Istaril finished the last of her explanation as a rant and sat there next to Cassandra with her head in her hands and the seeker looked at Istaril, seeing the sag of her shoulders and the defeated air around her.

"So you were sent by the Maker?" she asked quietly and Istaril shook her head, not looking up.

"The Powers sent me. If your Maker exists then I haven't met him." She replied and Cassandra felt a weight in her stomach

"But you were sent to help us?" she pressed and Istaril nodded still refusing to look up.

Cassandra closed her eyes and thought about everything she had just discovered. Istaril was really a creature that seemed to be from beyond the world, sent to help them. Leliana would want to study her and interrogate her for her knowledge, Josephine would want to put her on a pedestal to encourage more support for the inquisition, Cullen would want her locked away for fear of demons and her? Cassandra sighed, what did she want? She asked herself and the answer was clear, for the breach to be sealed and the Divine to be avenged. Istaril was here to help and it was up to Cassandra to decide if she could continue to do so.

"Swear on your life that you mean us no harm and are here to help us." She demanded, her eyes hard as she stared at the other woman's hunched over form.

Istaril straightened and looked her full in the face holding up her right hand in an unusual gesture **_"_** ** _I Istaril Silvia Elvira Miranda Cassandra Brianna Elinor Kathleen Helen Talia Katherine Lucy Armida Justine Dianna Terpsichore Epona Athena Artemis Leonora Wanderwing Islingr Vrangr Kehramor, hereby swear that I mean the inquisition no harm or any member of the Inquisition harm unless they attempt to harm me first or should it be that they intend harm upon this world and its inhabitants"_** her voice was smooth and strong as she spoke and though Cassandra could not understand it she knew that whatever Istaril had said was the truth.

"What did you swear?" she asked and Istaril bowed her head

"I vowed that I mean neither you nor the Inquisition harm, unless they attempted to harm me or intended to harm the members of the Inquisition. The ancient language of Alagaesia that I just spoke in prevents me from lying or breaking a vow." She replied and Cassandra was floored by the enormity of what Istaril had just done.

She stood shakily and held out her hand to Istaril. "Come they will be wondering what happened" she told the sitting wanderer. Istaril looked at her hand and a small smile crept onto her lips "I can stay?" she asked and Cassandra nodded smiling a little back at her "as long as you tell me your story" she replied some of her old familiarity creeping back into her voice.

Istaril took the proffered arm and stood "deal, lets head back." She replied and they set off back through the woods.

* * *

A/N YEEEEE HAAAWWWW People I'm back! Hello reading weak thou art a gift to all who struggle beneath the yoke of university, this is my happy reading week post. Hope you all enjoy, and yes she was in the BBC Robin Hood, she saved Marian and prevented the whole middle eastern debacle and died soon after, then whent to the PJTO universe, and Like I said, she was in a bad way, now you know just how bad.

Cheers! Mystborn!


	11. Trust and Truth

**Chapter 11- Trust and Truth**

Cassandra watched Istaril carefully as they followed the road back down from the hills, her face was pale and slightly drawn and she walked quietly, her shoulders drawn protectively inwards, a large contrast from her usually light step and upbeat attitude. This shift in attitude drew concerned glances from her fellow travelers, though when Enarel had questioned her she had waved it off saying it was nothing. Later that night Cassandra continued her observation and noticed the faint glow around Istaril grew stronger as the moon rose, and her pupils grew far larger than a normal humans in the gathering dark, with a faint reflective quality she associated with cats when the fire light hit them just right.

After dinner Varric thudded the butt of his crossbow on the ground drawing everyone's gaze to him. "Alright Feathers I'm usually not one to pry but you've been down since the fireball incident. So I think you need to talk about it or it'll just fester in you until you go crazy. Take it from me brooding doesn't help." His amber eyes were kind but firm and Cassandra shifted uncomfortably looking between Istaril and Varric in uncertainty.

There was a moment of deep uneasy silence as Istaril stared into the flames like they held the answers of all life's problems. "I don't think I can do that Varric." She whispered, never removing her eyes from the fire "It's just I have a problem with big fires, small fires like this I can take those, but that fireball was a little too much for me." She turned her haunted gaze to Enarel and Cassandra noted the greenish yellow glow that reflected off her eyes again "could you just refrain from lobbing those near me please?" she asked in a small voice, the dumbstruck elf nodded seriously and Istaril gave a tiny smile "thanks, I'll take mid watch" she told them her voice still quiet, before standing and walking over to a pine tree near the edge of their camp where her bedroll was spread out.

As she curled up under the tree Cassandra saw the trees very subtlety bend it's branches over, rustling them and weaving tighter together to keep her dry, the roots also seemed to shift to cradle her bedroll as she settled into it, after removing her armour and sliding beneath the covers and clutching what appeared to be a long length of dark cloth with gold embroidering along the edges. "What happened in the forest Cassandra?" Enarel asked quietly so Istaril couldn't hear.

Cassandra turned her eyes from the grey coloured lump that was Istaril and turned back to the fire. "She is more than she appears, she has experienced things I cannot even begin to imagine, I learned a little of what in beneath her smile, but I cannot tell you. That is for her to decide. I will not reopen old wounds if I can help it" she stated firmly, standing and moving away from the camp to take the first watch.

* * *

The camp was silent as Cassandra sat beyond the light of the banked fire, her eyes roving around the camp on the lookout for potential threats. Her mind chewed over everything she had seen and learned, mulling through the revelations. Who was Istaril? What was she? Could she trust the inquisition, the herald and the world to survive the "help" of this woman? A nearly silent whimper drew her eyes to Istaril's form. She was still as a stone, her muscles clenched tightly in a position Cassandra recognized from soldiers who were afraid to cry out in their sleep, another whimper dragged itself out from her clenched teeth and her right hand clenched around the long piece of fabric so hard her knuckles grew white and a small whimper of "no" snuck out with her harsh gasp of breath.

Casandra crept closer, curiosity nudging her forward. "No Please don't" Istaril breathed, so quietly that if Cassandra hadn't been listening she would have missed it. "Karrigan it's a trap, don't. Condor get her out of there!" the last part was a little louder, almost a desperate plea and new tears squeezed passed her shuttering lids. "Beware the grey rider" she muttered bringing her clenched hand closer to her face and curled around it protectively.

Cassandra's heart ached as she watched Istaril twitch and mummer, this was Istaril in her true form; she could feel it in her heart. This broken shell of a woman who tried so hard to smile and laugh, who paid extra attention to the little things in life because those were the only things that made the ugliness of the world bearable. This was who she could trust. Gently she nudged Istaril with the toe of her boot "Istaril it's your turn for watch" she called quietly so as not to wake the others.

Istaril's eyes snapped open, their pupil's vertical like a cat's but they slowly reverted back to a more normal round shape. The change startled Cassandra but she held back her shock realising that she was seeing Istaril in a whole new context, without the veil that had sat over her before. Istaril nodded and without saying a word slid out of her blankets, quickly pulling on her light armour and slinging her weapons onto her body.

She smiled slightly at Cassandra and walked out beyond the edge of the camp to situate herself on a small outcropping or the cliffs they were surrounded by and settled down, hood up and her bow resting in her lap with an arrow resting loosely on the string. Cassandra stared at her and blinked before steeling herself and walked over to the other woman and sat down next to her. "Will you tell me a story?" she asked quietly and held Istaril's eyes when they turned to her in shock "a true one" she added.

"All my stories have been true Cassandra, my time with the fellowship, the Balrog in Moria, everything. So be specific, what do you want? Adventure? Horror? Romance? Drama? Tragedy? Comedy? Fantastical or down to earth?" she replied quietly.

Cassandra turned her face to the moons and pondered "comedy" she replied after a few moments. "I feel like we could both use a laugh after today." She elaborated and she felt Istaril snort lightly and nodded.

There was a pause before she began speaking. "I used to travel with this absolutely insane adventure." She smiled fondly her eyes still scanning the surrounding area as she spoke. "Severus Snow-born was his name. Half Nord, half imperial, all badass as he used to say." She continued her tale and Cassandra could almost see it happening, like a memory playing before her eyes.

* * *

"Ready! And PULL!" a woman's voice cried in the still mountain air.

"FUS RO DA!" a deep voice bellowed, unnaturally loud, shattering the midnight stillness. A goat, bleating in terror went flying off a cliff. There was the sound of a twanging bow string and a black arrow hit the goat and exploded the thunderous boom echoing in the mountain valleys bellow them. A laughing man walked over to the archer and clapped her shoulder, both of them struggling to breath as their mirth shook their frames.

"Divines! The two of you are like a pair of toddlers!" another woman chastised from where she leaned against a boulder, watching the pair's antics with exasperated glowing orange eyes.

"Oh come on Serana! We deserve a break!" the tall, dark haired man told her good naturedly walking over and slinging his arm around Serana's shoulders.

"True we've been going non-stop since hearthfire" the other woman said skipping over to them.

They formed an unlikely looking trio. Serana was an aristocratic woman with snow white skin and glowing orange eyes, dressed in black and red clothes that looked like those of a noble with a nasty looking dagger swinging at her hip. Long black hair fell down her back and gleamed like a raven's wing in the light of the two moons. The man was tall and broad shouldered with dark stubble covering his firm jaw though his nose was rather Aquiline and his bright green eyes sparkled with laughter, he was dressed in heavy black and red plate armour with a truly massive sword resting on his back. The third woman had long golden brown hair had four braids decorated with beads and a sole feather that spun in the cold wind and blushing a deep crimson as she laughed, her dark blue eyes were bright with amusement and happiness as she observed her friends, her large black and silver bow resting over her shoulder and dressed in a set of dark short robes over chainmail with a pair of black gauntlets and metal boots.

"You do remember that all the time we waste here just means that Alduin has more time to build his army right?" Serana asked them both, causing the man's shoulders to slump.

"You're right Serana" he murmured turning to the other woman "I guess we should wrap it up Brianna" he said dejectedly only for Brianna's eyes to ignite with outrage.

"No, we have been working too hard, if you continue you'll just burn out. Trust me I've seen that happen and it's not pretty." She turned to Serana and pointed a finger at the pale young woman "sorry 'bout this Serana" she said, a smirk growing on her lips.

"What are you...?" Serana began but was interrupted by Brianna.

" ** _Weise ofrǫlvi_** " [be intoxicated] the brunette incanted.

Serana's eyes lost focus and she began to giggle before slinging herself onto the man's arm "What did you do?" asked the man uncertainly as the vampire began to whisper something in his ear that caused his eyes to go wide.

"Relax Severus I just bypassed her natural defence to alcohol and got her drunk, here" she said handing him a large bottle "let's go tear up Skyrim" she said.

Severus looked at her uncertainly then grabbed the bottle and began to chug. Brianna grinned and secretly congratulated herself as the enchanted liquor did its work before using the same spell that had affected Serana on herself, giggling as the tingling feeling spread along her limbs.

"Onward!" she cried and Severus grabbed her and Serana around the waists and pulled them close before throwing them off the top of the throat of the world with a shout of "WULD NA KEST!" Serana screamed as the plummeted and Brianna began to laugh hysterically as the wind dragged past her.

"FEIM ZII GRON!" Severus bellowed and the world turned blue. Their landing left a crater behind at the base of the mountain as they staggered away to find mischief to make.

* * *

They fell upon the giant camp with wild whoops, the giants themselves never stood a chance, nor did the mammoths who rose to their master's defence, except for the three that Sylvain used the bend will shout on, resulting in the three of them riding mammoths across the plains towards the glowing buildings of Whiterun.

Serana whooped with glee as she shot lightning bolts at the twin moons and Severus would bellow random shouts at the sky and passing wildlife. Brianna was standing on her mammoth like it was a surf board and snipping at the elk and deer with a spectral bow, laughing manically as she did so, often landing the arrows in obscene spots and yelling lewd advice to travellers they passed.

A group of unfortunate Thalmor were walking along the path they were taking and didn't make it out of the way of the several tons of out of control mammal that currently owned the road. "Did you hear something?" Serana shouted to her friends as they barreled along the path.

"No" Severus yelled back and Brianna merely laughed loudly before urging her mammoth onward faster aiming for another Thalmor patrol she sensed ahead.

They raced each other across the plains running down Thalmor patrols and occasionally throwing wildlife into the air for the others to take pot shots with magic, arrows and Thu'um. Their laughter and calls of "PUUL!" echoing across the hills nd waking the residents of the province.

By the time the sun had risen they had left a trail of destruction in their wake and three exhausted mammoths that they set loose and walked the last kilometre to Markarth. "Never again" Serana muttered, glaring daggers at Brianna. She had sobered up several time during the ride, the last one about two hours ago whilst in the middle of blasting an unfortunate goat with a chain lightning spell and had spent twenty minutes trying to get off whilst screaming at the cackling Brianna.

Needless to say Brianna had learned several very interesting and creative swear words that night, some that hadn't been in use for several millennia, but ones she fully intended to return to use. Brianna simply smiled brightly at the hungover Vampire and skipped ahead to the gates and then through to the inn for the day.

* * *

When the story was finished Cassandra retired to her tent, a small smile on her face. Varric, sitting in his tent smiled and blew on the ink of the story he had just overheard and recorded. He had woken up when Cassandra had asked Istaril for a story and he had scrambled to get his notebook open. Ruefully he shook out his hand to try and ease his writer's cramp before he lay back down in his bedroll and turned over, just in time to hear Istaril softly begin singing:

"To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,

The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.

West, west away, the round sun is falling.

Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,

The voices of my people that have gone before me?

I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;

For our days are ending and our years failing.

I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.

Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,

Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,

In Eressëaut, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,

Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!

To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,

The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.

West, west away, the round sun is falling.

Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling."

His eyes began to drift closed to the sound of her lilting accent that longingly crooned the haunting melody and he could almost hear the sound of instruments joining her. "She's so lonely" was his last thought before sleep took him.

* * *

They hiked down towards the small town of Redcliff in comfortable silence. Enarel watched Istaril from the corner of his eye as she smiled and hummed to herself quietly as if yesterday had never happened. Cassandra had a pensive expression and Varric was watching Istaril with curious eyes.

Enarel wondered what had happened to cause them to look at Istaril like that. He himself was still slightly wary of her after the incident with the fire ball, but she seemed to be in control once more. The sun was warm and the birds were singing happily in the surrounding forest as they strode up the path, passing banners signaling their approach to the Arl's lands.

"What do you think we will find?" Istaril asked curiously "in Redcliff I mean" she clarified when everyone turned to look at her.

Cassandra shrugged "Maker only knows, the Hinterlands have become a hotspot for the mage rebellion. I fear that the villagers may not take kindly to the influx of mages or that the mages have abused their host's hospitality." Her face could have been carved in granite and Istaril nodded, turning her eyes forward again.

"Turn Back We cannot open the gate until the rift is closed!" one of their scouts called to them.

"Rift?" Varric asked.

"Don't worry closing rifts is our specialty" Istaril joked to the woman as she followed Enarel onward before she stopped abruptly, causing Varric to walk into her.

"What's wrong Feathers?" he asked as her face contorted into a feral snarl.

" **Shooth breh ahvehtee!** " [Death to the errors] she screamed jumping forward drawing her sword sprinting to the rift.

* * *

Istaril could feel her dragon instincts roaring at her to end this perversion of nature, she dodged a swirling whirlpool of temporal energy and pounced on the terror demon that emerged from the corrupted rift. "Maker what's happening?!" cried Cassandra as they joined Istaril who held a long dagger in a reverse grip in one hand and her sword in the other. "Dunno but whatever it is It's pissed off Feathers!" cried Varric before she heard the distinctive twang and thunk of Bianca firing.

Istaril spun to the side dodging the demon's talon's as they slashed through the air where she had been standing and bringing her knife down on its hand, penetrating and using it as a grappling hook to yank the demon onto her sword. She didn't even wait for it to dissolve before she flipped away, pulling her weapons with her. She landed and almost vomited, she had landed in one of the temporal distortions, her already lightning fast reflexes sped up to be almost painful and she rolled out, dodging the swipe of a shade as she did.

As she rose to her feet Silivegil lashed out and bit deep into the shade's leathery hide. It shrieked in pain and she withdrew her blade, bringing it up and around to parry a swipe from a demon behind her, spinning and snapping out her leg to hit the shade she had just impaled. The force of the blow sent it flying as it dissolved from its wounds. With her blade engaged she jabbed at her enemy's throat with her wrist, flicking her hand out so the hidden blade slid out and embedded its length deep.

With a shout she jerked her left arm to the side, partially severing its head from its body and using the move to bisect a smaller whisp that had been sneaking up on her. "Time distortion!" she roared to her companions, catching a glimpse of Varric trapped in a slow well she sprinted over and reaching in grabbed him by the back of his tunic and hauled, dragging the dwarf back into the regular time stream.

"Thanks" he grunted before aiming his crossbow up and releasing a bolt that struck a shade. She nodded before joining Cassandra as she battled with a terror demon.

"Why is this rift acting like this?" the Seeker asked her in confusion and Istaril shrugged, dodging a swipe of the demon's tail.

"Kill it now ask questions later!" she yelled removing the offending limb with a grunt as she severed the hard bone. The rift closed with a bone jarring thud and Istaril braced her hands on her knees, taking a moment to recover from her moment in the time dilation.

"Oh thank the maker! Open the Gate!" came from beyond the wall. She pushed herself upright and sheathed her blades after wiping them off using the rag she carried for that purpose, sighing as she followed Enarel.

"The mages aren't expecting us?! Not even Grand enchanter Fiona?" Enarel asked the harried looking scout. The poor man shook his head and gratefully ran off when dismissed.

"It's a trap" Istaril told the elf confidently striding beside him and scanning their surroundings warily.

Enarel nodded "probably, but we won't know what kind it is until we spring it" he replied and Istaril made a sound reminiscent of an angry cat.

"Still don't like it" she told him firmly her hand on her sword as she flexed her left hand a little. The walk through the people caused Istaril to become even jumpier, there was a lot of evil in this town and castle, it coated the energy of the place like a thick cloying oil slick. It left a bitter taste in her mouth and a persistent nausea that led to her clenching her sword so hard her knuckles were white beneath her gloves.

"You alright Feathers?" Varric asked her quietly as Enarel spoke with a young man near the docks.

"This place is steeped in evil, both old and new" she forced out through gritted teeth, catching Cassandra's attention.

"What kind of evil?" she asked warily, gripping her sword and turning her head to scan around the village "it looks normal" she reported turning back to Istaril and Varric.

"It's not the people, they are just scared, but there is someone here who is covered in a malignant presence. It's even affecting the plants here, they are sickly and beginning to twist" she reported before she stopped and swallowed thickly as her stomach rolled again. "It's very unpleasant. Let's just get out of here quickly." She muttered looking at Enarel who was returning.

"are you alright?" he asked her "you look a little pale."

She shook her head "no I'm not alright, just finish up here quickly and let us be gone from this accursed place" she told him, looking out over the waters of the inlet and repressing a shiver at the feeling that permeated the air.

* * *

The gull and lantern was dark and nearly empty, only the half-hearted attempts of a minstrel in the corner doing anything to permeate the depressed air within the building. "Welcome agents of the Inquisition" a female elf in the corner greeted them.

Istaril focused on the elf and winced in sympathy for her. Grand Enchanter Fiona was haggard, dark circles sat beneath her eyes and her once fine tailored robes hung of her thin frame. Her expression was harried and her posture slightly stooped as if the weight of her choices were a millstone around her neck. Cautiously Istaril sent out a tendril to gauge the enchanter's mental state, her mind was steeped in regret and worry. Worry for her charges and fear for their new situation.

"What has brought you to Redcliff?" she asked uncertainly and Enarel frowned.

"You invited us here" he told her, confusion showing in his voice. Istaril watched as they conversed and shuddered at the feeling of approaching evil.

"The free mages have already…pledged themselves to Tevinter." Fiona said resignedly.

"An alliance with Tevinter? Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?" demanded Cassandra, shocked and appalled.

"Andraste's ass I'm trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done and I've got nothing." Varric muttered, Istaril looked at the mage with a sad expression.

"I know why you did it and I know you regret it. But what is done is done." She said sorrowfully before melting into the shadows clenching her sword.

"I have no authority to negotiate with you, this... bargin may not have been my first choice but it was the only choice. I had to save as many of my people as I could. We are losing this war." Fiona said sadly.

The door opened and an oil voice spoke "welcome my friends! I apologise for not being here earlier." Istaril almost threw up at the evil rolling off the magister, the voices faded out as she struggled to keep herself from lunging forward and relieving the magister of the burden of his head.

It was moments that she hated the restrictions she held on herself. The story had to happen, certain fixed points had to happen and this was one of them, never did she sympathize with the Doctor then moments like this, She continued to ignore the conversation, focusing instead on their surroundings, several Tevinter mages watched them with hard eyes that belied their fear and greed, southern mages stared on with hopeless expressions, little hope remained in many of them. They knew what they had done could doom them, but they truly saw no alternative.

She sighed internally as she isolated her mind amidst the sea of fear and despair, wishing she would let herself cast a Patronus to ease the atmosphere. Felix stumbled forward and she focused on him, shivering at the feeling of the taint corrupting him, but also a deep grief at the light and goodness she could feel being smothered in his soul as the poison of the darkspawn ravaged his body.

As the mages hurried out Istaril focused on Enarel as he examined the note Felix had slipped him. "Come to the Chantry you are in danger" he read and Istaril coughed, drawing his gaze at her "yes, yes, I know it's a trap" he answered for her in exasperation. Istaril sniffed and turned to the door, holding it open as everyone filed though before she followed.

"What's your take Feathers?" Varric asked and Istaril shrugged.

"Time is being violated here Varric. Any sane person would want to stop it. My guess is someone with either knowledge or a theory of why and how to stop it." She told him quietly to keep the other two from hearing.

Varric looked up at her and snorted "you're probably right." He muttered morosely as they trudged along the path to the Chantry.

As they approached she felt her instincts rear up and snarl but now she was prepared for hit and simply let the feral reaction pass her lips, drawing the attention of the party. "There is another **Gor ahveh** , time perversion in the Chantry" she told them, her eyes glowing with rage, Cassandra looking at her without the veil saw that her pupils had become vertical like those of a cat again and they were glowing blue silver like a jewel being held up to a light and her bared teeth revealed her elongated canines, a silver glow had begun to grow around her and the blood had rushed to her cheeks, flushing her complexion to a heavy olive.

The heavy doors swung open under Istaril and Cassandra's efforts and they were treated to a view of an olive skinned man in white mage robes and a rather dashing mustache beating a shade into the floor with a staff. As the Shade faded he looked up "Good you're finally here! Now help me close this would you" he called jovially. Istaril snickered at the expression on Cassandra and Enarel's faces before she pulled her bow over her shoulder and began to snipe the creatures leaking from the rupture.

Her movements were swift and precise, even Varric and Bianca were hard pressed to keep up with her rate of fire. Shades and whisps fell to her arrows, a Terror demon fell back with a shriek as her grey arrow pierced its eye and pinned it to the alter. With a wail it dissolved, leaving the arrow still quivering in the wood. More were driven back through the rift as her companions joined in, hacking and blasting at the demons with practiced movements.

There was a flash of green and a terror demon leapt out of the ground at her feet, throwing her back and forcing her bow from her hands. The tail whipped around and struck her shoulder, halted by her mithrill hauberk by still hitting with enough force to drive her back and snap her clavicle. She screamed in pain while it roared in victory and lunged at her, long skeletal green arms grasping her shoulders and heaving her up only to slam her to the flags again, the force of the impact leaving a small crater.

Istaril screamed as a several ribs cracked she right shoulder flaming in pain under its merciless grip. It lifted her up again to repeat the process but she twisted her legs up and around ignoring the pain and tearing her body from its grip. She swung up around its shoulders and grasped its head in both hands, crying out in pain as she pulled it up and to the right in a quick, practiced move, snapping its neck. It vanished and dropped her to the ground, where she knelt, wheezing as she wrapped her left arm around her chest and other arm in an attempt to stop the pain.

A shade swept towards her and she growled, once it was within range she used one of her last lines of defence. She lunged forward, her jaws opening wide before they clamped her now viciously sharp teeth around its throat. A foul taste filled her mouth and she gagged, but not before she initiated an adaptation she wished she did not have, glands just below her sinuses began to inject the highly toxic and corrosive Zerg venom into her victim. Job done she thrust the shade away from herself, spitting the foul ichor from her mouth as she rolled away from its thrashing form, whipping her sleeve over her face to remove the evidence.

The others had finished and had caught the tail end of her fight, just in time to see the shade leap at her and the fall away writhing. Istaril stood slowly, still cradling her injury and looked at the suffering shade impassively, Zerg venom was that nastiest thing evolution could come up with, able to eat through the hulls of starships, and she had just injected several drops into the shade. Its death was horrendous and messy as the venom ate through its veins, bones and hide before dripping onto the stone flags, sizzling and hissing as it did its work slowly the cleaning agents employed on the floor neutralized the diluted but still acidic venom, ceasing its onslaught and causing it to turn into a dry white powder on the ravaged stone.

"What the hell was that?" Varric demanded, staring in horror at the pockmarked floor where the shade had just dissolved into smoke.

"A poison from Zerus, very nasty, don't touch it" she croaked, her voice thick with pain, wincing as her cracked ribs and clavicle protested her movement.

"Wasn't about to" he told her, shuddering as he remembered the Shade's death throes.

"Enarel, shouldn't you close the rift before it begins to spew demons again?" she reminded the elf wearily raising her eyebrow at him.

"Oh right" he said, tearing his eyes from the sport and running over to the rift. The boom of its closing was not comfortable to her abused bones but she found herself snickering at the new mage's next words as they all joined Enarel at the front of the chantry.

"Fascinating, how does that work exactly?" he asked, Enarel shrugged helplessly and the mage chuckled "you don't know do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! The rift closes" he exclaimed and Istaril smirked.

"But then again, I have found that wiggling one's fingers always has a certain… magical reaction, wouldn't you agree?" she told the mage, winking saucily and grinning at his startled expression that quickly morphed to one of enthusiasm.

"Oh most certainly… you I like" he laughed grinning cheekily at her.

"Who are you?" Enarel demanded hurriedly, his face a brilliant red as he blushed at their statements and trying to change the subject.

"Oh where are my manners!" the man cried in mock consternation before performing a sweeping and overly dramatic bow. "Dorian of House Parvus, formerly of Minrathos. How do you do?" he introduced himself mockingly and Istaril smiled, stepping forward.

"Istaril of House Islingr, formerly of Corus!" she proclaimed in the same mocking tone as him, performing a wonderfully executed curtsey that despite the lack of skirts still looked very courtly and because of the same reason looked rather ridiculous as she held in her wince.

Dorian laughed heartily "oh I definitely like you, you have the same irreverence for propriety as I do. We'll get along beautifully" he told her with a wink which she returned, before turning to Enarel.

Istaril eased back to lean against a pillar and drew her mind inwards to assess the damage, three cracked ribs, a broken clavicle and a muscle pull in her right shoulder, wonderful. She sighed and was about to heal herself when Cassandra walked over.

"What's wrong?" she asked concerned and Istaril sighed .

"Three cracked ribs and a muscle pull and a broken clavicle, it kinda stings." She said a little sarcastic towards the end.

Cassandra huffed in shock "come I'll bandage you up so you can ride. We are heading back to Haven." She commanded taking Istaril's elbow and leading deeper into the chantry, calling to the others that they would follow soon.

Istaril let herself be led and resigned herself to having to let her wounds be handled by someone else. It would have let Cassandra be less suspicious of her and since she was unable to lie she had no choice but to let the Seeker have her way. The reached a room near the back with a window and a chair where Istaril was placed and Cassandra began to work on removing her various weapons and pieces of armour, carefully easing the mail shirt over her head and arms as Istaril winced and hissed in pain.

Istaril helped as best she could but her arms hurt to lift and her ribs were now aching so she let herself be taken care of. When her pale blue shirt and bra were peeled off her back Cassandra gave a small gasp at her vast collection of scars.

"Maker have mercy" she murmured as she picked up the roll of bandages "what happened to you?" she blurted out before adding "you don't have to tell me."

Istaril tried to shrug but ended up hissing as the move jostled her ribs and arm. "You know how I got the lash marks, that was the dream you felt." She said quietly as the Seeker began to wrap her torso tightly in the linen bandages that Istaril kept on her and after positioning her arm close to her body began to wrap and immobilize it and her torso, eventually tying the neat wrappings off near her navel.

"The bite was from when I was fighting Thorn, a dragon. He got me while we were falling, luckily I was able to pry his jaws off of me before he could begin to shake me. The rest is just the usual wear and tear on a warrior's body." She recounted, her mind reaching back to the battle with Thorn.

The dragon had, had a truly sorrowful look in his eyes as his jaws had clamped down onto her shoulder just before her wing and Arya had blasted him with a spell before Istaril had brought her free front claw down on his head, stunning him and making him open his jaws. They had spiraled down to the ground to the far east of the Burning planes and watched as Eragon and Saphira had finished knocking out the stunned dragon and his rider.

Arya had passed out trying to heal the wound and Istaril had been nearly unconscious from the amount of energy she had fed the elf for the healing and from the battle. The wound had only been half healed after that and Istaril had been forced to curl around the elf in a small cave on the riverbank for almost two days before they had been able to make it back to the Varden.

When she had left, the scar had come with her showing the first time she had nearly died. "You truly have some astonishing tales" Cassandra muttered before helping Istaril into a loose shirt she carried in one of the enlarged belt pouches on her bounty hunter belt.

Istaril smiled and stood with a winced trying to pick up her gear, only to be forced back in to her chair by a firm glare from Cassandra "what did you do to that shade?" The seeker asked firmly as she folded and wrapped Istaril's equipment into a neat bundle and wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. Istaril's smile dropped and she suddenly felt exhausted.

"There is a race called the Zerg… they are… a nightmare made flesh. They consume all they come into contact with… and if you are worth it they will assimilate you into the hive. I escaped but with a souvenir." She bared her teeth and let her long fangs out of their sheathes, Cassandra watched as her top incisors grew longer, sliding out of her gums like those of a snake, a dark glowing purple liquid gathered at the points before they retreated, the liquid dropping into her mouth where it fizzled but turned clear. "My saliva neutralizes it, but it is a method of last resort. I can kill someone with a mere kiss, but it is no longer the rule, I learned how to control it." Her voice faded as her eyes took on a haunted look as she spoke.

"Judge me if you want Cassandra, I no longer care." She said quietly, refusing to look at the Seeker. Cassandra looked at Istaril hard and thought over what she had just heard and at the expression in Istaril's eyes.

She made her choice and placed her hand on Istaril's uninjured shoulder. "I do not judge you for that which you cannot help. It is what you do with your abilities that makes you who you are. I see that now." She replied seriously. Istaril looked up at her, her ancient gaze softening in gratitude at the Seekers acceptance and Cassandra wondered how many people had accepted Istaril as she was, the look in her eyes said very few.

In that moment Casandra understood that Istaril had the capabilities to destroy the inquisition with very little effort. Yet she chose to remain and help them. Cassandra knew that Istaril would most likely be the greatest Allie and friend one could ever make and she resolved to make a friend of the ancient woman. "Come, let us join the others, they will most likely have the horses ready for our ride back." Thee Seeker said picking up Istaril's bundle of armour, clothes, knives, bow and quiver.

The Wanderer nodded and stood shakily, wincing at the pain and following Cassandra out of the building. The others did indeed have their horses saddled, burdened and waiting, Enarel looking nervously at the halterless and bridleless Mithronar who seemed to be giving Istaril a concerned look.

Cassandra fastened Istaril's bundle behind her saddle and Istaril thanked her before she gathered her cloak in her left hand before she spoke to Mithronar in Sindarin " _kneel so I may mount, I am injured"_ the mare nickered in concern, walking over to a patch of grass where she kneeled. Istaril got into the saddle and arranged her cloak around herself before giving the order. " _Stand, I am ready"_ and gripping the cantle of her saddle tightly.

The others of her group watched in amazement as the mare heaved herself to her feet as gently as she could and walk smoothly over to the others, Istaril sitting through it easily and guiding the mare with her legs. "Onward to Haven and Healers?" she asked, smiling slightly at their faces and her alliteration. Enarel shook his head at her antics and turned to look at Cassandra, who shrugged and swung her heavily armoured frame up onto her large bay gelding.

Once they were all mounted they set from Redcliff at an easy jog, Istaril subtly casting a stasis and pain-relieving spell to keep her arm and ribs from jostling on the two day ride to Haven.

* * *

A/N Hello All my lovely readers! Hope you had a wonderful Easter break. The Easter Plot bunny dropped this off and I had to share. As always hope you enjoy and leave me your reviews about what you think her next story/dream should be about.

Cheers, Mystborn!


	12. Magic and Mayhem

**Chapter 12- Magic and Mayhem**

The ride back to haven was unpleasant for Istaril, they had no proper healer to see to Istaril's injuries and she was refusing to reveal her magic by healing herself, meaning that her right side was in a great deal of pain the entire time. So when the wooden buildings of Haven crept into sight she nearly groaned in relief, the thought that soon a healer would be attending to her injuries a welcome balm. The crowds of soldiers stared at the sight of the bandaged and unarmoured Istaril, mutters spinning through the ranks as they speculated what could have happened. Mithronar gently knelt to allow her off but before she could do much else Cassandra was at her side and very nearly frog marching her away with a firm grip on her uninjured elbow.

"Let the stable hands do their job for once Istaril, they know what they're doing" she commanded over Istaril's protests.

Varric trotted along behind them holding Istaril's pack and doffed weapons and armour. "She's right Feathers, you need to get that looked at soon, and your horse will be fine" he chastised.

She rolled her eyes "pair of bloody mother hens, the pair of you!" she accused as they ushered her over to the healers tent.

"What have we got?" the healer demanded in a brisk voice as Istaril was practically forced onto a stool before him, Cassandra looming over her like a rather maternal looking gargoyle.

"Broken clavicle, cracked ribs and a pulled muscle in the right shoulder." She reported evenly. "Hmmph" the mage sniffed reaching out towards her with glowing hands. She held still as he placed both hands on either shoulder and waited patiently for the healing to begin.

The magic felt hot and uncomfortable on her skin, itching and stinging like hot water on an abrasion. The feeling increased as it flooded into her system she felt the heat scald its way along her limbs with an itching pain in her blood, discomfort grew until it felt like her blood was being boiled in her body. She gave a gasp of pain before she coughed harshly and fell away from him, desperate to remove the scalding in her body.

She lay twitching and gasping on the cold snow as the feeling of razor blades running through her veins filled her senses. Dimly she could hear people shouting around her and she saw a pair of glowing hands approach her again.

"No!" she gasped jerking away from his hands violently. More hands appeared on her arms, pulling her upright and trying to hold her still but she jerked away again, her strength ripping her from their grip. She fell back to the ground and there was a harsh crack as her already weakened rib gave way.

She felt it move and a sharp stabbing sensation appeared in her chest as her world went black with pain. "Stop you're making it worse! Get out! You too Varric, I need to ask her what's wrong and you're not helping!"" Cassandra's voice came into focus as she struggled. The pain was growing worse as she fought with the magic that was attempting to transmute her blood back to an iron base and she dimly knew her thrashing was not helping the case.

"Istaril! Istaril!" Cassandra's voice grew louder "what's wrong?!" she demanded. Istaril tried to respond, she opened her mouth and tried to say something only to begin to cough weakly, the taste of copper was strong on her tongue and her lips felt wet. "Maker's breath" Cassandra breathed reaching out and trying to hold her thrashing form still.

"Cabin" she gasped, as the distorted image of the seeker swam above her.

"Right!" Cassandra agreed before grabbing the cloak from the bundle that Varric had dropped and drawing it over Istaril's face before bending down and picking her up. The pain became blinding as the motion jostled her broken bones and as Cassandra tried to hold her still to prevent her thrashing in pain. She felt the world explode into white stars of pain before she drifted into a haze.

* * *

Cassandra was panicking. There was no other word for what she was feeling. It had started so normally, take the injured person to the healer, injury is fixed and then she could talk more with the woman. Instead Istaril and suddenly flinched in pain and began writing and screaming as if she were being tortured.

The only thing she could think of was to get Istaril out of prying eyes and to try and help her heal herself. It was an insane leap of faith but she had to take it, and her instincts told her to let Istaril fix herself. She scowled as she dodged around a trio of mothers, ignoring their cries and bolting up the stairs that led to the second tier of the village, whatever the healer had done to her was obviously causing a great deal of pain.

If this was a plot or an assassination attempt then the Herald could be in danger, she made a mental note to interrogate the mage afterwards. To make matters worse she also suspected that Istaril's rib had punctured a lung since she was now coughing green blood, only the memory of Istaril's flogging kept her from being surprised. She sprinted as smoothly as she could to Istaril's cabin, Varric and now Leliana trailing behind her as she cradled the wanderer's shrouded form.

"Cassandra what's going on?" the Orlesian Bard demanded but Cassandra didn't reply. When she reached the wanderer's hut she tried to kick the door down but strangely the pine stood firm, only increasing her panic.

"Out of the way!" Leliana commanded, Cassandra complied doing her best to hold Istaril's struggling form still. The spymaster knelt in front of the door and twitched it open with a pair of picks. Cassandra was already moving before the door was fully open, she darted into the small space and laid Istaril on the bed.

"Istaril what do I do?!" she asked desperately, pulling back the now stained cloak.

"Makers breath" Leliana whispered at the sight of the thick emerald liquid.

There were more voices at the entry way but Leliana leapt up and closed the door firmly looking at the Seeker who was now leaning over Istaril's mouth, trying to decipher what she needed. "..elf, third… right… glass…. Blue." She wheezed, her chest spasming again as it tried to draw in air. Cassandra spun around and saw the shelf opposite the bed had a collection of bottles and jars on it.

Sure enough third to the right was a tall glass flask filled with a dark blue liquid. She grabbed it and rushed back to the bed "what now?" she asked desperately.

"Three drops… mouth….. then… out" came the instructions. Cassandra pulled the stopped out of the bottle and carefully tilted three drops of the viscous liquid down Istaril's throat. The wanderer's body stilled "hanks… please… out… need…to heal." Istaril pleaded her eyes mere slits.

Cassandra was about to protest, to demand to know what was happening but she realised that she had no idea of what was wrong or how to fix it, but Istaril seemed to know.

"Alright how long?" she asked, feeling unsure.

"Three...days… don't come in" came the reply. Cassandra nodded, taking the instructions on faith before she grabbed the protesting Leliana and dragged her out shutting the door behind her and taking up a post beyond it.

"Cassandra what happened?" Leliana demanded, there were nods from the rest of the inner circle members who had gathered around the door, confusion on their faces.

"If she is injured surely a healer should attend her?" Solas pointed out curiously, Vivienne nodded looking slightly miffed to be agreeing with the grubby apostate.

Cassandra shook her head "that's what caused this" she said grimly. "Istaril is….special, her needs are not like ours, we would just end up getting in the way." She declared, though she sounded like she was trying to convince herself. "She said she would be fine in three days and she will be." Cassandra declared praying to the maker that she was right.

The others looked unconvinced, the newer members who were not familiar with Istaril's quirks looking at the others. Varric looked at Cassandra closely with narrowed eyes "what do you think happened to her?" he asked her quietly as the others disbanded, Cassandra noticed that Leliana lingered, her ears turned toward the pair.

Cassandra shook her head "I don't know Varric. One moment she was fine, waiting for the healer to begin, the next she was on the ground screaming in pain. What ever happened the healer caused it." Her voice was weary, the adrenaline of the moment draining from her system and the doubts began to creep in. Had she done the right thing?

* * *

"Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck" Istaril thought to herself as she groped around on her belt, there! She fumbled open the linking book and vanished, reappearing on the stone floor of the balcony, it was raining,hard. "Perfect" she groused.

The heavy sheets of rain pounding down on her as the wind whipped past. She landed in a large pool of water that had not yet drained off to the sides, the cold water soaking her skin as she began to mutter in the ancient language, trying to repair her puncture lung. If she had, had the breath she would have screamed in pain as the bone pulled itself out and sealed back into place but the numbing potion she had taken was helping with it.

Now away from the rift in Haven she was able to begin purging the foreign magic from her body, flooding her system with her own to repair the damage by the unintentional blood transmutation. She had experience a lot of different forms of pain over her years but she could now say with certainty that she had found something worse that the cruciates curse. That took doing. Her body was shivering in exhaustion as she finished fixing her blood, the cold of the rain had permeated her too, soaking her clothes and hair, chilling her already weakened frame further. For an interminable amount of time she lay there, unable to get her body to respond as she drifted in and out of consciousness, light faded and darkness covered the villa.

Distantly she could hear the waves as the wind drove them against the shore below the house and the sound of the rain hitting the stone around her. She was freezing by the time she had gathered enough scraps of energy to move. With a herculean effort she rolled over and crawled into the house, unable to stand and literally hauling her body across the stone floor with her good arm. Water dripped from her sodden form as she dragged her body inside only to be whisked away by the enchantments she had built into the place, leaving no trace that the water had even entered the house.

One agonising climb up the stairs later she shed her clothes and bandages, ripping her shirt off to spare her clavicle and crawled naked under the thick comforter, asleep before her head hit the pillow. Her sleep was dreamless for once, though most probably from the exhaustion.

When she cracked her eye open the rain had stopped and the sun was rising but her body felt flushed and hot, too hot. She lay there unmoving, too tired to shift her covers to get comfortable and simply decided to examine her energy levels, trying to determine if she had enough in her to perform another healing to fix the original injuries.

Her body ached and her lungs felt like crap, but other than that she felt merely tired and hot. She yawned and began to mutter a healing spell, pulling energy from the gems in her hair that she kept as an emergency store, the bones and muscles returning to their original place, though the energy leaked out of her like a sieve as she tried to direct it. By the end she was healed but extremely weak, with little energy left in her body and her beads tapped out. With so little strength left it was no wonder her body began to shiver despite her heavy covers.

She sank deeper into the mattress, thinking groggily that after a quick nap she would return to Haven. That unfortunately was put on hold as the largest sneeze in her life took hold. Thanking her luck stars that she had just healed her ribs she lay back, feeling chilled despite the sweat that covered her form, she sniffed and realised what was happening.

"Really?!" she croaked at the ceiling before a wet cough wracked her frame. "Shit" she muttered sinking back into the pillows, just finished healing herself from a punctured lung and now she was sick because her body was too weak to fight off the effects of laying in the cold rain for however long she had. She growled and closed her eyes, what good was the power to heal wounds and create whatever she needed if she couldn't even cure herself of a common cold, though if it was any consolation no one seemed to know how to cure the common cold. Her eyelids drooped and she turned onto her side and drifted away again.

* * *

The air was filled with the smell of smoke, burnt flesh and hot metal, the sounds of war cries and death screams filled the air along with a deadly humming and the sharp sound of energy weapons. She frowned and pushed back a few tendrils of hair that had escaped their bonds and fallen onto her sweat soaked face. A blast of red light flew towards her and she moved, twisting the glowing turquoise blade before her to parry it back.

"Retreat!" she bellowed "the Temple is lost! Get the younglings and Padawans the hell out of here!" she dodged another blow and pivoted, bringing the other end of her weapon up. Snap Hiss another blade sprang forth and speared the black armoured form before her. More figures bearing red blades leapt off of the ship that had crashed through the front entry and she snarled. This had been her home for many years, she would not see it fall without a fight.

" **Jeirda**!" she cried pointing her fingers at a black robed intruder who flew backward with a cry and she pounced on him, driving her blade through his chest before leaping up and spinning her blade around, reflecting a bolt of red light back at its owner, falling back to earth and tucking into a roll to dodge the horizontal sweep of a red blade that would have halved her at the waist. A red blade descended on her and she parried it aside, rising up from her crouch and bringing the other end of her blade up and forward, landing a long diagonal slash on her opponents body which fell to the ground in two pieces.

A barrage of blaster fire sped towards her and she spun, her reflexes mimicking the foresight of a force wielder as she parried the blows, reflecting them back with deadly accuracy and downing their originators. Three more black armoured Sith challenged her and she fought back, twirling and leaping like a dancer, using walls, droids, soldiers and the Sith themselves as springboards, refusing to let them pin her down.

From a distance she looked like a turquoise and brown blur, her blows were accurate and she had a knack for throwing her opponents off balance by randomly deactivating and reactivating her blades so she flicked between a single blade and a double blade. As the last one fell she straightened and looked over to where she felt another Jedi life force flicker and die. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw Jedi Master Ven Zallow slid off of the Sith's Lightsaber as the monster turned toward her.

"Malgus" she snarled and his eyes narrowing in determination.

"Anomaly" his artificial voice wheezed at her loaded with malice. Her face grew hard and her emotions slid off her face as she brought her staff saber up into a crosswise defensive posture, waiting for him to make the first move. He stalked forward and she countered by sliding to turn the advance into a circle, matching his paces with smooth steps as she stared at him with a cool gaze.

"You will die" he rasped as he leapt at her, his crimson blade raised high to cleave her in two. She hiss out a breath of air as she flew to meet him, her dual bladed Lightsaber twirling around her like a maelstrom of chaos as she met his blade with hers in a flurry of sparks. Though she did not have the force she was able to pick up his actions by listening to his mind and reacted accordingly and her reflexes were faster than his by a smidge. She leapt and spun around him like an acrobat, chaining kicks and blasts of magic into her attacks, dodging his reciprocating blows or deflecting them, using her distinctive style of switching the number of blades she had activated to throw him off balance, but never quite managing to land a killing blow.

His attacks were heavy and swift, battering against her like waves as she deflected them away and his bursts of lightning caused her wards to drain as she tried to dodge or deflect them. He lunged and she leapt high, flipping over him as she stabbed down at him with her blade. She landed and spun, sweeping a horizontal blow at his back but he brought his saber up and over his shoulder to counter it before spinning round to face her again, his single poisonous yellow eye burning above the metal of his rebreather while the milky white of the eye that she had blinded stared into the middle distance with the same rage.

"Did I ever mention that I like your eyes this way?" she taunted as she dodged another powerful blow. "I must say that white is a lovely colour to match your skin tone" she added as she danced away from another lightning blast. She landed and tutted at him "You're slower than last time Mal" she taunted through her harsh breaths as she parried his latest flurry of blows "must be the rebreather, Satele really did a number on you on Alderan from what I hear" she ducked as he bellowed in rage and launched a series of overhand strikes.

She brought her right blade up and held of his onslaught, sheathing her other to protect her hilt. The force of his blows actually caused the floor beneath her to crack slightly as he drove her back, moments before her back touched a pillar, she brought her foot up and smashed it into the side of his face, crushing a portion of his rebreather before she bounced off the pillar and flipped over him and away. She landed a few meters away in a fighting crouch, sucking in heavy gasps for air, his last attack had done a number on her. He staggered and turned clutching at his mask, fumbling at some switches and apparently switching over to a redundant system.

"You'll pay for that Jedi scum" he growled at her, advancing menacingly, though with a noticeable limp.

"Told you last time Mal, the correct term is Sith Killer" she mocked before launching another attack. They continued to fight with all they had, battling back and forth across the entry hall of the temple, destroying the stone columns and anything that stood in their way.

She could feel her body weakening, her tailored version of Ataru was not meant to be used for such a long period of time and even with the elements of Niman she employed she knew that she could not win this round. She could feel her strength waning, this was not helped by the constant feeling of the minds of the Jedi faltering, their life forces dwindling.

"Get out of here!" she bellowed to her fellow Jedi as she fought harder, pushing her already straining muscles onward, pulling strength from the various gems in her hair as she attacked with renewed vigor trying to hold off the Darth to give the others a chance to obey her orders. The monster before her gave off waves of fury and a dark chuckle echoed his mental amusement as he attempted to spear her with his blade, the amusement disappeared as she grazed his side with her own blade that had reappeared and he renewed his attack with a snarl.

They battled like fiends, blows so fast they left after images in the eyes of witnesses, their strikes so swift that the very air hissed in displacement. She was sporting a long cut along her left arm, the fabric and flesh around it smoking from the heat of the saber and another on her left thigh, her robe was a lost cause as only a small amount of tattered brown fabric fluttered around the small of her back, the sleeves and hood long since sheared away and her chest plate was gouged from his blade. Her mind worked hard to compartmentalise the pain and she grit her teeth, pulling on her experience of fighting through pain to compensate.

That's not to say he was uninjured, a long slash ran the length of his face, marring his already blind eye and a deep, burning cut where she had almost stabbed him ran along his left side with his armour covered in glowing cuts from her twin blades and his cape in ribbons. Also, she noticed with a smirk that he was limping, the result of a twisted ankle she had inflicted on him. She smoothed her expression again as she launched a roundhouse kick, smashing into his face again and sending him stumbling away as she followed up with an overhand strike. He bounced back to his feet, deflected her blade and blasting her away into a pillar that cracked with the force of her hitting it.

She grunted in pain and staggered to her feet, shaking her head to clear the ringing only to bring up her blade just in time to deflect the streams of lightning pouring from his hands. This was her chance, she sprinted forward, launching a spinning attack with both legs and weapon as she tried to pull more energy from her gems, only to realise with a sinking feeling that she was tapped out.

"Master the younglings are out, we must pul... ahhhhhhh!" the voice of another Jedi echoed through the massive atrium over the clash of sabers and the echoing of blasters.

She checked and saw that the only Jedi left were her and three knights, she winced and drew on the last of her strength and pushed " ** _óvinr bifask [_** blast away foes]" she bellowed and the Sith and their troops were blown back for just a moment. "Follow me, hurry!" she cried and the last three Jedi followed her from the burning temple and out into the open air.

Beyond the temple the magnificent spires and Skyscrapers of Coruscant burned with Imperial Star Destroyers looming in the sky like portents of doom, the sounds or orbital bombardments mingled with the screams of millions over the planet and the clatter of metal boots as the Sith stormed the capital. A small ship swooped low and she could feel the mind of the pilot wanting to aid them. She put on one last burst of speed and leapt upwards just as the bay doors opened.

She caught the Durasteel lip and swung herself up and in, leaning out to catch her fellow Jedi and haul them up. Sith streamed from the temple, blaster fire and lightning flew at the ship, but too late as the door closed and the ship peeled away, dodgeing shots from figter craft and ships as they ran for their lives.

"How many made it?" she asked as she sank down, her wounded leg finally giving out.

"Just under three hundred knights and most of the younglings Master. Your actions allowed us to escape, but the Empire now holds Coruscant." The pilot replied.

She closed her eyes and laid her head back, the beads in her hair making soft clicking sounds as the hit each other and the Durasteel plate of the hull, her once seveciable updo decorated with the braids had fallen, her hair now hanging around her face.

"They will begin orbital bombardments, the death toll will be catastrophic." She murmured, the adrenaline from her fight leaving her system.

"But the younglings are safe" one of the knights offered, "we must regroup at Tython, there we can gather strength and return to repel them" another agreed.

She turned her head to the side and pressed cheek against the cool bulkhead "yes that is the plan" she muttered.

"Master Wanderwing are you all right?" the third knight asked kneeling down at her side.

She chuckled weakly "leg and arm wound as well as exhaustion, not much else" she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Hold on Master, let me get some bacta pads" the second knight offered. She nodded and felt her body drift into sleep.

* * *

The blackness of the dream shifted.

"Are you sure Kathleen?" the grey haired woman asked her uncertainly.

Kathleen nodded "its part of what I was sent here to do Satele. Seal me in cryo with a timer and as many redundancies as you can, I will not be needed for another three thousand years or so. Also by putting me here on Tython no one will know where I am." She smiled at her old friend.

"I will miss you" she admitted to the pale eyed Grandmaster who gave a small smile, her face was now embellished with a layer of fine wrinkles and her hair was no longer the luscious black it had once been. Despite the signs of age her eyes still burned with power and her form still held strength and calm she had been renowned for.

"I will miss you too" the Jedi admitted before pulling her into a rough hug "you may not be able to wield the force but you are a true Jedi Kathleen. No one has served the order more faithfully that you, save maybe the hero of Tython and you helped with that."

Kathleen chuckled and hugged her friend hard. "Been a wild ride huh Satele?" she asked and the elderly Jedi nodded "just think it was forty five years ago that the pair of us met on the station above Korriban when this all began" she added with a smile.

Satele grinned and pulled away "I remember, you appeared in a blaze of the force and the first words out of your mouth were "can I use the bathroom?"" Satele laughed and Kathleen joined in.

"Well can you blame me? I had just spent a year in a spectral form with only brief moments of solidity, you tend to get a full bladder when you do that." Kathleen laughed and shook her head. "It's been crazy hasn't it?" she asked and the grandmaster nodded.

"Forty five years and you haven't aged a day, sometimes I really envy you, then I remember your burden and all I can do is thank the force I got to meet you." the Grandmaster reminisced.

Kathleen smiled, "and you still won't tell me where you got that top" she pouted.

Satele grinned "and I never will" she replied.

Kathleen turned to the cryo capsule, running her hand over it before turning to look back at her friend whom she regarded as a sister after all these years. "I think it's time" she said seriously.

Satele nodded and left to go call the other members of the council. Kathleen turned to look at the white and silver tube that she would be frozen in for the next three thousand years and sighed, pulling off her robes, folding them neatly in a pile and pulling on the skin-tight white suit that would protect her from the chemicals the pod used, gently placing the long and elegantly engraved silver cylinder of her dual bladed lightsaber onto of the pile.

The door slid open and a small gathering of people and two droids entered. She smiled sadly and walked through the gathering, embracing them and accepting their well wishes and farewells.

She smiled at Gareth-Tal the hero of Tython and Kira Carsen who stood next to him, hugging them both and whispering them a congratulations on their wedding in their ears which caused them both to stare at her in astonishment and hugged the smuggler Amirian Veth tightly as the captain of the blue star gave Kathleen a watery smile.

Once she finished each of them bowed to her. "Thank you for all you have done and all you will do, your contributions will be given prominent place in the Archives of the Jedi. May the force be with you always Jedi Master Kathleen Wanderwing" Satele said formally before holding out a closed fist.

Each of the assembly did the same, or in the astro mech's case opened a compartment and extended a little grasper. Kathleen looked at them in confusion before they opened their hands and revealed that each held a single bead. They were made of Tythonian silver, one of the few metals that could withstand a lightsaber blade, and engraved with beautiful and unique designs.

"Our last gift to you" Satele said with a smile.

Kathleen had tears in her eyes and smiled, bowing low "I am honoured, thank you for giving me a home and a purpose all these years. You are all like family to me, despite the law of non-attachment" she said sincerely before turning and taking a seat on a chair "I would be honoured if you made the braid Satele" she added quietly.

Satele strode forward and began to add a braid to her hair, one that was a complex Brentali pattern, adding the beads as they were presented to her. Eleven from each member of the council she had sat on for so long, nine more from the friends she had made both among the order and without, finally capping the end with a heavy silver clasp engraved with the symbol of the Jedi order and her rank as a Master.

Once she was done she flicked the long and rather heavy braid forward to show Kathleen who took it in her fingers and ran her fingers along the pattern, memorizing how it had been done to seal it in her memory forever. She turned back to them and bowed low again. "I thank you all for this, and pray that the force and the Powers-That-Be smile on you all."

She smiled, embracing them all one last time and walked to the cryo pod, opening it with a hiss and walked into its cool embrace before turning to look back at the entire crowd and made a decision as the door closed. "My true name before all this began was…" whatever she had said to them was overlaid with mental static as her subconscious mind blanked out the last part of the memory, the door sealed and she looked at them all through the thick clear covering and smiled before closing her eyes and knew no more.

* * *

Istaril cracked an eye open and coughed. Her whole body ached and her throat felt like sandpaper. It was sunset and she dully realised that if she didn't haul her sorry ass back to Haven she would have even more uncomfortable questions to answer. She slid uncomfortably from the warmth of her bed and leaned down to grab her belt and boots. Still coughing and sneezing as she shuffled down the stairs, leaning heavily on the wall as she went.

She pressed her hand to the return book and shivered as she arrived in her cabin, realising that she was still naked as the day she was born and the cabin was freezing. She dumped her belt on her desk and shuffled over to the bed, scratching idly at the long scar on her left thigh. She slid under her covers and shivered at how cold they were before turning over, ignoring the feeling of the beads in her hair pushing uncomfortably against her skull and sinking back into sleep.

* * *

Cassandra stared at the door of Istaril's cabin in trepidation. It was the morning of the third day and she couldn't take it anymore. She heard footsteps behind her and held in a wince.

"Why won't you tell me anything Cassandra?" Leliana's accented voice asked her quietly. "We've worked together for almost ten years. I trust you with my life and I thought you did too. So why now won't you tell me what happened with Istaril?"

Cassandra turned to face the spymaster with a calm expression. "That's not fair Leliana and you know it. I swore I would not tell and you know I never go back on my word. Also I can't because they are not my secrets to tell. That and I'm sure you wouldn't believe me." She paused looking into her friends eyes before an idea struck "Come in with me and let's see if she will tell you." She offered, trying to give a middle ground.

Leliana blinked, then nodded, walking over to join her at the door. Cassandra pushed the heavy pine door open and led the way inside. A rattling cough met their ears as they entered and a voice mumbled "close the door, you're letting in a draft." Another wet hack followed the statement and the pair walked quickly over to the bed.

Istaril did not look good. Her face was flushed and her eyes were glassy, staring at them but not really seeing them. "For the first time since I left Plumtree in Tennessee it's the first time I've been warm." She added, a weak giggle following the statement.

"Istaril?" Cassandra asked in concern kneeling down to Istaril's level, reached her hand out and feeling her forehead.

"Maker you're burning up!" she exclaimed pulling back her hand and looking at the woman in shock.

"uhh huuh" Istaril hummed in agreement.

"I'll get the healers" Leliana offered, stalking outside imperiously. Cassandra walked quickly over to the fireplace and began to kindle a blaze in the cold hearth, trying to warm the freezing room.

In the bed Istaril hummed softly to herself "yo ho ho and a bottle of rum, drink up me hearties yo ho" she rasped tossing uncomfortably and Cassandra frowned heavily in worry as a deep, bone jarring cough wracked Istaril's frame.

"One ring to rule them all…one ring to find them… one ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them" she mused, her rasping voice filled with menace and Cassandra shivered. She stood quickly and moved back over to Istaril's side and pulled her blankets higher around her bare shoulders, looking back toward the door anxious for Leliana to return with Adan.

Her attention was dragged back to the wanderer when her hand snapped out and fastened itself around the Seeker's wrist and she looked down into a pair of desperate blue silver eyes. "You'll look after him right?" she asked anxiously and Cassandra frowned, trying to pull her arm from the voce like grip. "Please promise me Maria that you'll look after him." She pleaded "don't let Altair go back to the way he was. Don't let the apple taint him." Cassandra stared into the pale silvery blue eyes and swallowed hard at the desperation in them.

"I promise" she said finally and Istaril's grip slackened.

"Good…good" she mumbled, her lids fluttering closed. There were footsteps at the door and Leliana hurried back in with Adan the healer at her heels. Her mind was reeling but she let herself be ushered out and she sat down in the snow pondering what had just happened.

* * *

Leliana looked down at the woman in the bed. She felt like she was missing something vital about this woman, something that would let all the pieces fall into place but what those pieces were eluded her. Istaril mumbled something unintelligible as she shifted and Leliana leaned in closer, wiping down Istaril's sweat soaked face with a damp cloth.

Istaril's eyes fluttered beneath her lids, the whites flashing briefly in the gloom of the cabin as her head twitched and turned to the side. The beads that still sat in her sweat soaked hair made soft clicking sounds as the struck against each other and the braids looked ratty from being left unattended.

Leliana considered herself somewhat of an expert in braids, maker knew she had seen and woven many in her life time, but some of the ones that adorned Istaril's hair were works of art, complex and intricate, even in their current state of disarray. Also what stuck her was just how many of them there were, in fact there seemed to be more braids than loose hair.

She reached out and touched one that was filled with over a dozen round silver beads the size of her pinkie nail and engraved with strange and elaborate signs. At the bottom was a heavy silver cap that was decorated with a symbol and a line of text.

Curious she picked up the braid and brought it closer, staring intently at the ornaments. Each bead was uniform in size and the quality of the metal and engravings was astonishing. Whoever had crafted these beads had been a master at their craft she decided laying the braid down and pulling her hand back. Istaril turned her head back to look at Leliana and her eyes opened blearily.

"Alanna?" she asked in a weak voice, nearly a whisper.

In a flash Leliana made a choice "yes, I'm here, how are you feeling?" she asked, accepting the name.

Istaril blinked heavily and licked her lips "when did you get here? I though Jon had you tied up near the Gallan border?" she stared at Leliana as much as she was able to, her eyes sliding off her as she struggled to focus.

"I arrived earlier, the told me you were ill" Leliana offered, trying to find some way of prolonging the conversation. Istaril frowned as blinked slowly, her lids almost refusing to open, settling instead at half-mast. "What's the last thing you remember?" Leliana offered and Istaril's brow crinkled in confusion.

"Riding, me'n Raoul were coming back… from ….somewhere. And then Darklight reared… then nothing." She muttered, her eyes closing rapidly. "Glad you're here Alanna, it's nice to have a sister who cares this time." She slurred before her face went slack and she drifted back into unconsciousness.

Leliana nearly cursed but sighed instead before grabbing the cloth and dabbing at Istaril's green flushed skin again…. Wait. Her mind stuttered as she stared at the sick woman's fever flushed skin in shock. Just a few moments ago her skin had looked red, but now that she had caught it, it looked so obvious. Istaril was flushed a deep emerald as her internal temperature raged, thinking back she remembered the blood that had been smeared on the inside of Istaril's cloak when Casandra had brought Istaril to her cabin and further back to the fight with Cassandra when the shield bash had caused her nose to bleed.

She jumped to her feet and began looking around the room for the cloak, there. It lay in a corner, bundled up where it had fallen. She strode over to it and picked it up, shaking out the silvery grey fabric and staring at the dried olive coloured stains that adorned the inside. She looked between the cloak and the still form at the bed, then turned smartly on her heel and stalked out the door and began to hunt Cassandra.

She found the Seeker hacking at a dummy at the training fields. Without waiting she grabbed the fighter's arm and dragged her away to a tent. Once inside she threw down the cloak, showing the stains and looked up at the Seekers amber eyes. "Explain Cassandra." she said in a low and dangerous voice.

Cassandra rubbed the bridge of her nose. ""I don't know what you want" she said tiredly, looking up at the red head wearily.

"Why is she green?" Leliana demanded, her eyes narrowing.

Cassandra sighed "I don't know, it is something I found out recently, though I don't know why anyone else hasn't noticed, how did you?"

Leliana paused frowning as she pondered. "I caught a glimpse of the blood from before, and then I just suddenly saw it..." She paused realising how strange that sounded and frowned more heavily.

"My suggestion is to speak with Istaril" Cassandra admitted, "there is literally no precedent with how to deal with her" she added shrugging before giving the spymaster a comforting hand on the shoulder. "Just speak with her Leliana. She is here to help." She said before leaving the tent and the shaken spymaster.

Leliana sat in the tent for another few moments before she bent down and picked up the cloak and left the tent, returning to the cabin and stared at the woman who whimpered and twitched, lost in dreams that did not appear to be pleasant. She closed the door before she settled down in the room's only chair, putting the kettle over the fire and resigning herself to a wait.

Around sunset Istaril's fever broke and a half hour later that her eyes opened, no longer glassy but still dull with exhaustion. Leliana watched her from where she sat next to the fire, nursing a cup of tea and a stack of reports. She was unsure why she had remained here for so long, even going so far as to shoo the Herald and his companions away. Something told her that she needed to speak with Istaril first. Now watching as the Wanderer carefully awoke she wondered.

"You finally rejoin the living" she said dryly, taking another sip, drawing Istaril's eyes to her. "You gave us all a rather large scare" she added watching Istaril over the rim of her mug, watching as Istaril cast her eyes around the room, taking in the locations of various objects and the lack of anyone else in the room.

"It wasn't my intention" she rasped, wincing at the feeling of her swollen throat protesting its use. Leliana stood and poured some water into the simple clay cup Istaril kept for this purpose and gently handed it to Istaril, all the time watching her closely.

Hands shaking Istaril sipped carefully from the cup, her eyes never leaving Leliana. "So I assume something has changed drastically to cause you such turmoil." Istaril murmured, considering the spymaster who had not stopped staring at her with piercing blue eyes.

"What are you?" she demanded in a cool voice.

Istaril sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back into her pillow "you know Cassandra asked the same thing, and I'll tell you the same I told her. I don't know." She opened her eyes and turned to look at Leliana once more. "But I feel that words are cheap to you, it is deeds and actions that speak to you, no?" Leliana merely nodded once, her intense gaze never wavering.

Istaril huffed in what could be called a laugh. "What can I do that will give you a satisfactory answer Lady Nightingale?" she asked somberly, the humor leaving her face and only the blank mask remaining.

Leliana shrugged "I don't know. I know nothing of you, you have no past, and it's as if you didn't exist before the Herald found you." She glared a little at the last point but Istaril remained unmoved, watching her with steady eyes, waiting for the Spymaster to reach a decision. "I don't know how to categorize you, you fit no known pattern and though your actions indicate you want to help I still know nothing about you. How can I do my job as a spymaster and ignore the massive hole in information that is you?" she demanded, her voice colder than the wind outside.

Istaril coughed harshly, the water sloshing over the rim of her cup as she clutched it tightly. "Yet you traveled with Morrigan, an apostate who you knew nothing about and even though she made no secret of her attitude towards your chantry and your beliefs. How am I different?" Istaril asked after the cough had subsided, her voice a harsh croak like a ravens.

"I was younger then, naïve, and the stakes are much higher now." Leliana answered frostily, her eyes sharpening and the shadow of her hood deepening as she tilted her head forward.

"I see. I shall await your decision on my trustworthiness then. Just know that there are some things that should remain in the past." Istaril replied tiredly leaning her head back onto her pillow and closing her eyes. Speaking towards the celling she added "I would appreciate it if you kept my blood to yourself, the feeling of being burned at the stake is not a very comfortable sensation and I would not like a repeat performance." Leliana looked up at her sharply, but Istaril appeared to have drifted off to sleep once again.

She stood, knocking back her chair in the process and strode to the bed. "What do you mean!" she demanded, grabbing Istaril's shoulders. "What do you mean!" she cried almost shaking the dozing woman. An eye cracked open and she stumbled back and fell to the ground in shock as a vertical pupil that formed before her eyes stared at her.

"Ask me again after you ask yourself, Are you ready to experience the same pain as your prophetess?" Istaril mumbled and closed her eye again, falling into a light doze again.

Leliana stared at the woman before her in fear and uncertainty. A knock at the door shattered the stunned silence and she looked over at it as it opened to reveal Cassandra. The seeker took a look at the Spymaster and rushed over to the downed woman. "Leliana what happened?" she asked frantically looking her friend over for wounds.

Leliana stared at Cassandra like she had never seen her before, then her eyes tracked back to the sleeping Istaril. "What is she?" she demanded in a whisper, her eyes focusing on the slightly glowing woman.

"You can see her clearly now too?" Cassandra asked following her friends gaze to the still form. "Like a veil has been lifted and you can see her clearly" Leliana nodded.

"To me the veil was always flickering, I saw things I wrote off as coincidence or a trick of the light. What is she?" Leliana acknowledge before repeating her question, turning to look at the Seeker who knelt next to her.

"I don't know Leliana. All I know is that she was sent here by the maker to help us." Leliana looked from the seeker to the wanderer "she asked me if I was ready to feel the pain Andraste felt… what did she mean by that?" she asked her brow crinkling in confusion as she slowly pulled herself back together.

"She was burned at the stake" Cassandra replied in a dead voice. Like she was trying to forget something.

Leliana turned to Cassandra in shock "but…how?" she demanded.

"How was she burned or how is she still alive?" Cassandra asked seriously, her dark eyes like obsidian blades.

"How is she still alive?" Leliana asked uncertainly.

"She died and then returned to help others. It is her purpose, she was created to help." Cassandra replied turning her gaze back to Istaril "she has no choice but to help. That's what she told me. We are fortunate enough that the maker decided to send her to us to help."

Leliana stared at Cassandra "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! If she is chosen then why doesn't she just close the breach? If she was sent by the maker then why does she not fix everything?" She demanded, tears beginning to well up in her eyes, the strain of the last few weeks beginning to take their visible toll on her.

"Because it's not my story…. It's yours." Istaril whispered, her eyes still closed. "I am only here to help, not to fix. Certain things need to happen, the divine's death, the mark on Enarel's hand, the forming of the inquisition. It all needs to happen. You don't need me here, I'm simply back up. Extraneous, always the spare." She continued, shifting slightly and her eyelids fluttering. "Going to sleep now." She muttered and her breathing deepened.

The two women stared at each other as her words struck them. "Oh Maker…" Leliana whispered her eyes wide, whilst Cassandra turned white. They looked at each other, uncertainty in both their eyes before they turned back to Istaril who had a slightly worried expression on her sleeping face.

"What do we do?" Leliana asked and Cassandra shook her head.

"We tell no one, I have a deal with her that she will tell me more. You can help me. But we can't let anyone know that she was sent to help us, it would cause a panic and drive the chantry even further into the belief that we are heretics…Let her stay as she is." The two of them nodded and stood, dusting off their pants as they looked at Istaril's sleeping face which was now etched with an expression of such profound sadness that it made them tear up a little as the watched her.

With an unspoken agreement they left, walking out into the dark night to find their own beds.

* * *

A/N- Maker's breath this story has some odd moments. I was repeatedly told that Istaril was to OP so I did this. Hope that is a decent sized Achilles heel for you lot. I would also like to inform everyone reading this that yes I know that pretty much everyone save Dorian is OOC. Yes Leliana would probably be more aggressive, so would Cassandra. but I would just like to say that I have almost no control over this story. I sit down and plan things out and draw up timelines and do my research. Then the moment I sit down to write, the characters go off script and do whatever the hell they want too. If you still enjoy this then let me know. If not then you don't have to read any more.

Cheers all! Mystborn!


	13. Getting Better

**Chapter 13- Getting Better**

Istaril cracked open her eyes, the light the trickled in through the cracks in her shutters gave the feeling of late morning, in her mind her instincts quivered and hissed at being restrained once more and her mind felt raw from the unfiltered thoughts and feelings of the minds of the flora and fauna around her. During her sickness her mental bonds and barriers had slipped, letting her inner Dragon instincts and her repressed Zerg personality have the run of her mind, she had also been unable to restrain her mind from listening to every thought, whim and impression for a hundred kilometer radius while she was sleeping.

Dreams of hunting and genocide had haunted her sleep and the lingering echoes of the screams of her victims as a Zerg queen plagued her, the impressions of pain from the plants and animals (she included people in that category sometimes) on the mountain had added to the din, chaffing her mind and rubbing her mental ears raw. She closed her eyes and drove the insane sadist she had been back into the prison where she dwelt before taking deep breaths and allowing her dragon to slide back into her subconscious then as a final act she muted the mental communications until they hovered again as a dull feeling at the back of her mind.

She licked her lips, wincing at how dry they felt and turned her head to look down over the edge of her bed to see her clay cup still half full of water. She poked her hand out from under the covers and reached down for it. Her fingers were weak as they clutched at the slightly grooved surface of the cup and she had to exercise a great deal of will to hold it tightly enough to laboriously lift it up. Once it was on a level with the bed she rolled onto her back and scooted back enough to raise her head. She rested the cup on her chest and slowly tipped it back, grateful for the feeling of the cool water trickling past her lips, ignoring the slightly dusty taste to it.

Drink finished she carefully returned the cup to its place on the floor before she began to look around the room, trying to see if anything nearby could help her. Her eyes drifted over to the pile of weapons and armour that lay on top of her clothes chest and frowned pondering the collection. Something green winked at her from the stack of steel and she blinked in confusion before the origin of the glitter surfaced. A dagger with several jewels in the pommel.

She stared at the dagger and frowned, if she could get her hand on that dagger then she could siphon off the energy she had stored in those gems. She always made a point of storing energy in every gem and jewel she possessed. Most of them were in her hair, but those were more along the lines of her combat stores. She had a belt on Tsahvahn made of gems linked together that she had used to stored nearly three centuries worth of energy. Unfortunately for her the belt was not here. She took a deep breath and marshaled her strength and will before she sat up, the energy required was extreme, sucking at her depleted reserves but she continued, reaching out slowly for the dagger, thrusting her hand into the pile and fastening her hand around the small emerald. Her strength failed her and she fell back, but this time with the dagger's emerald studded hilt clenched tightly in her hand.

The removal of the dagger disturbed the pile and caused several daggers and her quiver to fall to the ground with the loud clanking of steel and the rattle of arrows. She winced and the mail shirt and greaves slid after them in a slither of rings and a clank of the metal piece hitting each other. She lay there, the dagger clenched in one hand on top of the covers that now sat around her waist. She glanced down and sighed, she was still naked as the day she was born, though she glanced at the nautical star over her heart and felt a wave of nostalgia as she looked at it.

It was her oldest tattoo, she had received it in Arulen, on her second major jump. The ink was faded now, and the lines almost invisible in places but its shape was still undeniable. There was a knock at the door and she hurriedly tugged at her covers with the hand holding the dagger, pulling the blanket back over her chest and resting her hands on top of the covers. As she did so she mentally reached out to the dagger and began tugging a little on the power within the gem and letting it trickle into her. The tiny but steady flow of strength sharpened her mind and gave her the strength to bid her visitor to enter.

* * *

Solas walked towards Istaril's cabin, hiding his agitation beneath a calm mask of polite concern. The last few nights had been rough on the elf. He had found the storm that was Istaril's sleeping mind in the fade last night after days of searching, but he had been unable to approach due to the guardians that had blocked his path.

It had been very jarring to approach the storm only to be swatted back out of the winds by the finned tail of a massive turquoise scaled dragon, one that could have easily wrapped its body around the entire Haven Chantry and had several meters left over. It was a beautiful creature he could admit, thinking back to the event. Its scales had glittered like gems and spikes made of what looked like fine ivory had run down its back and around its jaw.

Its eyes had been bigger than his head and glowed like massive silver blue gems as they watched him. The dragon had snarled at him, glaring balefully in his direction before curling protectively around the disturbance that was Istaril's dreaming mind, puffs of smoke emerging from its nostrils as it continued to glare at him.

Small green tendrils had crept out from the mists as well, the vines carpeting the ground around the dragon and small purple flowers had opened, releasing a fine golden pollen which had filled the air around the storm. A small whisp was caught in the cloud and fell to the ground motionless and was quickly swallowed by the thickening vines, deadly looking thorns beading with a slightly green coloured liquid had sprouted from the waving tendrils, ready to ensnare anything that came near. He had been startled when one of the flowers had actually hissed at him, small jaws forming along it like a fly trap and snapping threateningly, forcing him back a step.

But it had been the third guardian that had sent him running. It… she had stalked out from beneath the dragon's wing and over the vine incrusted ground, moving through the pollen clouds as if they were nothing. The being was female, standing at over seven feet in height and was clad only in blue scales with plates of iridescent green chitin covering the vital places on her body like armour. A pair or enormous leathery blue wings extending from her shoulders adding an extra two feet to her already formidable stature and she had them splayed out to increase her size in threat like a hawk mantling over a kill.

All along her body tiny glowing lines outlined her scales and ran like jagged lightning across her plates, making her glow in the dim light of the fade. Two long curved and glossy black horns swept back from her head as well as a mass of dark brown antennae like tendrils grew away from her face in place of hair and hung down to her waist. A powerful tail lined with black spikes swept from side to side behind her, two lateral fins tipped with dangerous looking black spines sat perpendicular to the vertical, foot long double edged black blade that adorned the tip and glinted darkly in the light of the Fade.

A pair of curving scythe like blades adorned her outer forearms and five viciously curved and deadly claws armed her hands all of them black as the void. Her eyes glowed a chilling, icy blue and had glared out at him from a relatively human face with smooth, paper white skin that faded to tiny scales around the edges, around the edge of her face glowing pale blue lines had adorned her skin like veins that encroached inwards along her cheek bones and toward her eyes.

In all she had looked like a creature from a nightmare or something spat forth from the depths of hell, but at the same time she possessed a terrifying and otherworldly beauty. "You are not welcome here wolf" the woman had stated, her voice was cold and multi toned, as if hundreds of women were whispering at once and a pair of deadly looking fangs were revealed when she spoke each with a small bead of glowing purple liquid dripping from their tips.

The voice was heavy with power and command, like that of a queen, but at the same time soft and low, with a seductive tinge to it. Solas had felt a frisson of fear run down his spine at her voice, but it was her words that had caused the spark of dread to appear. She knew who he was. "How do you know that title?" he demanded bringing his staff up and preparing to enter battle.

The female had given a soft and cruel chuckle that had echoed unnaturally around him, the dragon snorted and the vines had shivered almost as if they were laughing while the being sent a small smirk at him "We know many things little wolf. Your nature is clear to all who listen" she whispered, malevolence and cruelty coating the words and her eyes taking on a feral gleam.

Solas had prepared a spell, and she had laughed again "oh look the little wolf wants to play" her voice was mocking and he growled as he hurled the fire towards her. To his horror she had swatted it aside with a flick of her wrist before it had reached her, her lips twisted in a cold little smile.

Fear made his heart pump as he sent more magic her way, trying to cause some kind of damage, but each attack was flicked away like it was nothing. He stopped to heave in a breath and had felt his blood run cold as he met her smirking eyes. "My turn" she purred, before he could do anything she raised her right hand and pointed a clawed finger at him. Blades of blue energy had sprung from her fingers and been sent hurling his way with a flick of her fingers. She laughed as he ducked away, her eyes beginning to glow with an eerie ice blue light and that cruel smile still on her lips. A blade had brushed his cheek, burning as it sliced through skin a drawing blood and he stumbled over a vine that snaked around his foot.

On the ground he had looked up to see the woman smirking at him as she readied a compressed ball of blue energy that he instinctively knew he would not survive. "Run little wolf, run from the oncoming storm" she purred, making a sweeping gesture with her raised hand. The ball had flown towards him and detonated at his feet, sending him flying through the air.

His landing had been painful but he wasted no time in picking himself off the ground and fleeing Blades of icy blue energy swept from her hands again, slicing through the stones at his heels as he fled. Solas leapt away, dodging the blades as they tore apart the terrain around him as he ran from them.

The woman laughed cruelly as she hurled more of the blue blades, taunting him as she continued to try and kill him. He stumbled as more vines burst from the ground and attempted to ensnare his ankles, the thorns tearing viciously at his skin as he continued to run, pelting away from the death trap the area had become.

The dragon roared and sprayed gouts turquoise hued flames after him, he felt the heat of the flames nipping at his heels and shivered as the laughter had echoed after him even as the scene was swallowed in the fade's gloom.

* * *

Shaking himself free of the memories he knocked politely on the door to Istaril's cabin. "Come in" came the reply, and he carefully opened the door. Istaril lay in her bed looking tired and pale. Her hair lay lank on the pillow, its usual modest waves and neat braids mussed and tangled with tendrils curling around her face from where they had been pulled loose.

"Solas" she greeted, her voice was tired but her eyes were clear and sharp. In her right hand she clutched a small silver dagger embellished with a small collection of emeralds in the hilt, and the blankets revealed her bare shoulders, around her left bicep coiled several lines of text in three distinct alphabets and he wondered briefly what they meant before he drove that thought away. Solas stared at her with hard eyes, closing the door behind him with a sharp tug.

"How long have you known?" he demanded. Istaril blinked, confusion filling her eyes as she stared at him, "my name, how did you know?" he elaborated, still unwilling to reveal the full truth lest one of Leliana's birds was nearby.

"You told me?" Istaril answered, though her voice raised the inflection at the end, turning it into a question.

Solas blinked, I told you my name?" he demanded wracking his brain.

"Yes you said "my name is Solas. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance" she answered, her brow furrowing.

Solas glared at her. "Enough of this charade Istaril, if that is indeed your name. I know that you know. Your mind is like a beacon in the fade yet the creatures that guard it are like nothing I've ever seen." He ignited a small flame in his hand, staring at her with cold eyes. "You are still weak from your fever. It would be a small matter for a candle to fall over." He said, his voice bearing a resemblance to an arctic breeze.

Istaril's eyes focused on him and lost the pleasant glint they usually bore. "You would murder me in my bed to ensure this secret of yours is kept?" she asked him, her face showing no trace of emotion and her voice calm and hard.

"I would kill thousands to free my people from their shackles" he spat at her, old memories resurfacing, and a harsh gleam taking over his expression.

"I see" she replied her gaze never faltering. "And by people do you mean mages or elves?" she asked, her voice flat and cold.

"Elves. I will not let you disrupt centuries of planning." He snarled tilting his hand towards her and preparing to launch the flame at her bed.

"Centuries of planning?" Istaril asked, confusion and shock flitting across her face before she tucked it carefully behind her mask again. He only saw it because of his extensive experience among the courts of Arlathan. Doubt began to creep into his mind and he withdrew his hand slightly, looking at her with a mask he had perfected over the centuries.

"You do not know? Than how did the guardians in your mind know." He demanded returning his hand back to a firing position.

"First of all what the hell were you doing near my mind. What is in my mind is private. I don't go digging around in your head, so I expect you to return the curtesy. Second of all if you mean the dragon then that was a technique I picked up on my travels. It there to prevent perverts like you from looking into my mind when I'm weak."

She growled at him, her eyes flashing at him. "I don't know what you plans are, but I know this. You are a disgrace to elven kind. You are an obsessed and delusional wretch and I hope the gods judge you as such." She stared at him defiantly, her chin thrust out belligerently and her hands clutching the dagger so tightly that her knuckles were bone white. "If you are going to murder me then do so. If not then leave me the fuck alone. I will not interact with you beyond what is expected in mission and I would expect you to do the same. Make your choice _Achas Draug_ " she challenged, holding his eyes with her own.

Solas stared at her, looking deep into her luminous sliver blue eyes. In them he almost felt like he was staring at a pair of moons. Cold and bright, offering light but not warmth. He snarled silently as he brought the flames in his hand to a higher intensity set on avenging her slight to him being a disgrace.

But the longer he stared into her eyes the harder it became to hold on to his anger. The eyes were almost hypnotic in their depths and he felt his levels of fear and worry lessening, why was he here? He wondered before shaking his head slightly. He broke her gaze and extinguished the flames in his hand. "If you try anything I will kill you" he told her in a calm voice and she continued to watch him coldly.

"Go Warg I will not speak with you if I can help it" she told him frostily, and watched him as he left. Closing the door politely behind him.

* * *

As the door closed behind Solas Istaril let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding and sagged back into her bed, it had been a dangerous game she had just played, it reminded her of D'ni politics the way she had let him see what he needed whilst she read him for all he was worth. It had still been close, in the end she had practically hypnotised him to avoid thinking of her in the context of her knowing his secret and lessening his aggression, not that this was new or uncommon.

She sometimes would exude a calming aura to prevent people from leaping to conclusions around her, but with Solas she had all but locked the aggression directed at her behind a veil. It was hard to do to victim when awake but she was good at what she did. Not for the first time she thanked the powers for her psionics. Solas was good at the game, but he was arrogant, sure that he was better than everyone else due to his experience.

The thing was that she was just as good as him and she was able to listen to him mentally shout everything. Solas was louder than anyone in the inquisition on the mental frequencies due to the amounts of time he spent wandering around in the fade. Hell he was almost as loud as a force user and those guys opened themselves up to the force, actively broadcasting their minds to anyone with even minor psionics. Not that there were any other psionics other than her in that universe.

She sighed, her eyes drifting closed again as she pulled more energy from the gem, turning the trickle of energy into a stream. She hated feeling so vulnerable and was now eager to correct the oversight. Her cold would dissipate with the influx of energy essentially kicking her immune system into overdrive.

The door opened again and she turned her head to the door a chastisement on her lips before it died. Standing in the doorway were Cassandra and Leliana. They both had the look of women on a mission, the spymistresses blue eyes were cool and the Seekers like a pair of polished river stones as they watched her.

"Istaril" Leliana greeted and Istaril inclined her head.

"Leliana, Cassandra" she greeted.

Leliana's eyes drifted to the dagger in Istaril's hand and a slight frown marred her features and Cassandra's lips thinned. The entered and shut the door behind them before Leliana locked it. The sound of the bolt sliding home seemed to echo in the small space with finality.

"Talk" Leliana commanded crossing her arms and fixing Istaril with a piercing stare. Cassandra settled against the door with her hand on her sword hilt and watched the scene quietly. Istaril sighed deeply and leaned back her eyes closing for a moment, it was time to tell someone. It happened in every world and she was glad to reveal it to people she knew were honourable and loyal to those they deemed friends.

"Imagine a massive tree with innumerable leaves. Each leaf is home to a worlds worth of beings and is in itself a reality. This is what my husband's people called **Terokh Jeruth** the great tree of possibilities. We are currently on one leaf. Everything you know, understand and comprehend even the fade resides on this leaf. But there are thousands, if not millions of leaves each with their own laws and possibilities, each leaf itself has its own vines grow from them and those vines also have leaves. This tree is but one in a forest, an infinite number of realities." She paused and looked at the pair who still stood there stoic and silent. She sighed and turned her head back to the ceiling.

"This forest has its own residents and they in turn can see what happens in the realities around them. Sometimes they are benevolent and other times they are the opposite. But in my case there is a group of neutral beings who took me from my reality and put me in another, and another and another. These realities were but stories to me in my home reality. Fairy tales and novels that I read before this began. Then when I was twenty I was murdered in my own home. A thief who was far too jumpy and tried to hold me hostage with a knife." She lifted her chin and showed a nearly invisible scar that stretched from ear to ear across her jugular.

The pair gasped and Leliana went white as a sheet. Istaril ignored them as she continued. "The beings, or as I call them: The Powers-that-be like to put me into certain situations to see how they change and how I effect the story by my sheer presence. They have changed my species several times, my gender once, turned me into an astral projection, and mutated me beyond anything Nature could ever reasonably give. They have made me an overpowered Mary Sue and the only thing that can stop me… is myself." She closed her eyes again to shut out the sight of their faces as she continued. "I have watched as worlds burned around me and I have burned to save worlds. I have battled gods and demons, slain titans and monsters and commanded armies numbering in the millions. On the other hand I have burned planets and laughed as I slaughtered billions, I have burned my way across a galaxy and have terrorized thousands to get my way. I have lost my sanity three times and even now I must always hold my darker sides at bay. I am a thief, a warrior, a murderer, a Terrorist, a general, a Solider, a priestess, a demigoddess, a huntress, a mutant, a beast, a failed and escaped experiment, an assassin, a spy, a knight, a hero, a sorceress, a mother, a sister, a lover, a servant, a slave, a lady, a princess, a Queen, a sacrifice and a monster." She named last title in a whisper, a feeling a resignation and sorrow washing over her as she spoke her situation out loud.

"I'm so tired" she whispered still facing the ceiling, her eyes till shut. "When will I have done enough?" she wondered quietly a single tear squeezing past her closed lids and trickling down from her left eye.

"2,131, what does that mean?" Leliana murmured and Istaril opened her eyes sadly and turned her face back to her guest. Leliana was holding the small calendar sphere she had made and Istaril nodded.

"years, give or take a few centuries where I was imprisoned, out cold or wasn't counting but yes, that's the rough estimate" she answered quietly and they gasped.

"2,131 years?" asked Cassandra aghast.

"Over two thousand years of war and battle, though I have had a few decades of respite scattered throughout. Usually they just give me a couple of months to breath before they send me out again." She took a deep breath and continued "I hatched into a war that was mine to fight whether I wanted or not, the woman who raised me helped but it was still a trying time for me. I thought it was a onetime thing, after the war I picked a mate, settled down and had a few clutches of hatchlings to help my species, watched them grow and then once everything was stable I was told I was going to never see my family again. The next thing I know I'm fighting to train a young boy to protect his country, all the while trying to relearn how to be a human. Barely a decade in and I was moved again, found love in my third trip and killed myself within four years to save my friends and universe. That has become the pattern of my life" the tears were coming faster now, streaming down her face as she curled into a ball.

"I always lose everyone I love" she sobbed, burying her face in her hands, fighting the sorrow she had been holding back since Veovis. "My family, my lovers, my friends, my children. Do you know how it feels to give birth to your very first child and find out that the bastards who control your life have decided that you need to die in childbirth? I held my first daughter once just long enough to name her before I was ripped away from my family" she sobbed harder as the feelings overwhelmed her, her grief filling her and spilling out in the great, shuddering sobs that wracked her frame.

She was still a widow in mourning, her partner of two hundred and twenty seven years had passed barely seven months ago, she had become accustom to having such a constant in her life, had allowed her heart to hope that this would be the last time only for that to be torn from her. But now she was back in the nightmare that was her existence.

A soft hand rested on her shoulder and a pair of weights settled on her bed. "That you still love shows that you have a good heart" Leliana consoled her softly.

"Who did you lose?" Cassandra asked gently.

Istaril to a shuddering breath before answering "Veovis was the most recent. He was my husband, the longest I've ever had, we had two sons, and the youngest just got married a year ago" she faltered before continuing "Airem is my eldest with Veovis, he has my eyes and his father's face though he followed his father into the writers guild. He loved to hear my stories and vowed he would try to find one of the worlds I had visited." She smiled remembering those serious dark blue eyes staring at her stubbornly as he had informed her of that.

"Tarvis looks the most like me, only with red hair. Like me he loved music so he joined the musicians guild, he has the most beautiful voice. When he became a journeyman he hounded me for every song I could remember and wrote them down." The hours of sitting by the window and singing with her son attentively writing everything she did down and asking questions about why the music had been written or who they were about flashed past her mind's eye.

Her throat closed again as she fought back tears. Her family had been the bright spot in the darkness that was the political climate of D'ni, she had fought for decades for women's rights, freedom for those in the lower classes and the lessening of the xenophobia that had gripped the subterranean people, there had been rebellions and several assassination attempts but her family had survived. In the end she had won and when she had left her eldest had been ready to take up the mantle of a great lord and continue her work. She opened her eyes and looked at the partially open window, admiring the sliver of blue sky nostalgically.

"And their Father?" Leliana asked curiously settling onto the floor next to the bed whilst Cassandra lowered her frame into the only chair.

"Veovis." She murmured his name almost longingly "He had the most beautiful pale eyes, dark hair and a complexion that would burst into flames at even the mention of sunlight" she chuckled softly before continuing. "He was brilliant, and passionate. He loved his people and his craft, and he loved me despite everything I have done and accepted me for who I was. He kept my nightmares away and was always there to just talk." Istaril answered.

Memories of her sitting with his arms wrapped around her as she wept on his shoulder, curling up together of the couch as they watched their sons play, his look of awe as he watched her dance in the moonlight when she thought he wasn't looking and of his grey eyes smiling at her as they sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea but not seeing the view as they stared at each other flicking through her mind's eye.

"The two centuries with him were the longest stretch of peace I've ever had, the longest I've ever been allowed to have a family, I met my granddaughter shorty before I left." She whispered forlornly, mourning her inability to simply die.

"How did he die?" Cassandra asked curiously, her voice soft and her eyes sad.

Istaril gave a half-hearted and bitter laugh "old age. The one thing I have never died from. I watched him age while I stayed the same, frozen in time looking twenty no matter how much time passed. I held his hand as he slipped away in his sleep and three days later before his funeral I was gone. That was seven months ago. They made sure I had my gifts before they buried me, including my wedding band" She told them emptily fingering the gold band that still sat on her upper arm, tracing the familiar script that was a declaration of her marriage.

Returning from her memories she turned to look them in the eye "this does not leave this room understand?" she commanded, her eyes filling with steel. Leliana held her eyes the longest, the silent challenge echoing in the room.

Eventually she conceded, "You know what will happen then?" she asked in a cold voice and Istaril shrugged.

"I know of a possible path that could happen if I were not here, though my very presence changes things. My information is outdated and I've made the mistake of telling someone what will happen before it does. I have no desire to spend the next few years locked up and used as little more than a pack of tarot cards before I'm executed because my information was wrong. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and the scars to prove it." She told the spymistress harshly before she turned away from them again.

"Am I allowed to continue or not? I have limits that I refuse to cross so don't ask me for the quick fix. I won't do those because you need to learn to stand without me. I'm only here until the crisis is done. If you rely on me to heavily it will only cause problems once I'm gone." She spoke to the wall but she knew the women were listening.

There was a heavy silence that pressed on them all before Cassandra spoke. "I will trust you." She decided solidly and Istaril exhaled a little "but I expect you to show me some of the techniques you've learnt. That and I want stories regularly" she added and Istaril turned back to the pair with a smile on her face.

"Deal" she agreed and turned her eyes to Leliana "I will try to steer you towards the correct lines of inquiry but know that I'm not infallible. I only want to stop the madman trying to turn the world inside out." She told the bard gently and met her gaze unflinchingly.

They stared at each other for a long time before Leliana's shoulders sagged "That would be appreciated, another set of eyes would be appreciated sometimes. I fear that I am becoming too harsh in my decisions at times" she murmured and Istaril nodded.

"I have some experience with spies" she replied, a smirk playing around her lips as she said that.

Leliana rolled her eyes and strode forward with her hand extended "a clean slate" she said quietly and Istaril smiled before hoisting her shoulders up a little and grasping Leliana's forearm in a tight warrior's grip.

"A clean slate" she agreed. Cassandra copied the gesture with Istaril who sighed and leaned back afterward "Now out the pair of you" she commanded closing her eyes, "If I'm going to be better by tomorrow then I'm going to need my beauty sleep" she joked, though her voice was already slurring.

Energy from jewels was all well and good but nothing truly beat a deep sleep for restoring the body and mind. The pair nodded and after putting some more wood on her fire left, latching the door in place. " ** _læsa_** "[lock] she muttered looking at the door. With a quiet snap the lock turned and she smiled drowsily, letting sleep take her once more.

* * *

A/N Here you go my lovelies!

I want to show just how broken Istaril is, to show that she has not escaped her ordeal unscathed. The number is still flexible as Istaril is a living breathing character, every time I close my eyes I learn something new about her and her story. The list of where she has been is long but that's not all. I have only made a list of where she has spent significant time, she has also made numerous trips that lasted only a few months or even days. As a result she actually has no real clue how old she is. Now some would say that on the scale of her and Solas that solas is older. But I want to point out that age is not just in years, but in experience. She may be only two thousand but that's two thousand of wars, assassination attempts, adventures, and more. She has seen and done way more than even Galadriel and thus is in a way older than even an elf who outstrips her by leagues in actual numerical age. I hope you al still enjoy this.

Achas draug means dread wolf in Sindarin. She is mocking him, the elfiest elf to ever elf in elvish and he doesn't even know.

Cheers! Mystborn


	14. Chapter 14

Attention every one. this story is now abandoned. I felt that I was unable to truly write this as I became far to attached to merely coming up with tortures for Istaril to endure. I apologise to those who like it but this story is now dead. I have an altered idea of this in the pipes and I hope that I can make it a proper story.

change of plans I will simply leave it marked as abandoned

thanks for liking this story,

Mystborn


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